Erik touched the last few keys of the piano as he walked by. The ivory was cool under his fingers and he imagined how it would sound. He knew the sound of that piano well. He had played it often enough that he could easily identify it by sound.

He allowed his hand to fall limp by his side as he walked. The other hand was slightly extended before him to keep him from breaking anything by running into it at full force. He walked to the door and opened it.

Erik felt the cool air rush in and past his hands and neck, but the mask protected his face from the breeze.

Erik had never seen his own face, but his mother had never refrained from keeping it from the view of others. She refused to look at it herself and he had worn a mask for the majority of his life for her comfort and for others.

As he stepped onto the porch, Erik let out a tired breath. He was set out for another day of work at the music store, where he could only expect to face the worst in people.

He walked down the street and could hear others mill about him. They walked casually with their friends, family, and pets. They took only slight notice of the tall figure with the walking stick before they noticed the mask. He knew they were lingering on his hidden face and they had an instant mistrust for him.

He had not had to experience much of the world to know how his mask was viewed.

He reached the store and entered.

The bell rang when the door opened and he made his way carefully to the back where the counter was.

A new voice greeted him today and he tilted his head at the sound.

"Good day sir, what can I do for you?"

It was a gentle, happy voice and Erik could not detect even the slightest hesitation. He was a bit put off by this as his mask usually made people at least a bit confused or concerned.

"Oh, uh," he coughed out in response, "I am the string instrument consultant and repairman."

He waited for the inevitable questioning.

"Oh!" the voice said joyfully, "Nice to meet you. I'm Christine and I just started. I'm going to work at the counter. We will probably be seeing a lot of each other."

Erik smiled.

"Unfortunately, I don't think I will be seeing much of you," he said.

Christine was silent for only a moment before responding.

"Oh, yes. I nearly forgot. You can't see. I apologize if that was at all offensive to you. Perhaps you will be hearing me frequently, then."

Erik nodded. He appreciated the fact that she was reacting so comfortably.

"I suppose so," he said.

He made his way back to his office and leaned his stick against the wall. He hardly needed it in a place he knew so well. He stepped up to his desk and began to string the violin that was sitting there. He carefully pulled the strings into their places and turned the pegs to fasten them. He picked it up and rested it gently under his chin, cradling it on his collar bone. He quickly tuned it and made sure it was in proper working order.

Once it was tuned, Erik couldn't help but play a few melodies. He paced around his office as he played and smiled at the pleasant sound of the newly repaired instrument. The violin was one of his favorite instruments. It had a clear, sometimes ethereal sound that could capture the mind of anyone.

Erik stopped abruptly when he heard it. From the other room, he heard a beautiful voice. It had been singing along with the violin as he played and they had harmonized nearly perfectly. As untrained as the voice was, it had the potential to become the finest voice he had ever heard.

Almost tripping over his own chair that he had known was there, he walked back to the door of his office and flung it opened. The voice stopped and he could hear something fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry for frightening you," he said carefully to who he assumed was Christine, "I heard you singing."

There was a silence between them as she picked up the pencils she had dropped in surprise.

"I, I'm sorry," she began nervously, "I just really like that song and I couldn't help myself."

Erik could hear the embarrassment in her voice and smiled kindly.

"No need to apologize," he stated firmly, but gently, "You have a magnificent voice."

Another silence.

"Do you enjoy the violin?" Erik asked.

Christine hesitated for a moment.

"My father used to play it for me and, and I liked to sing with it. I don't mean to interrupt your playing. I know, I know… I'm sorry."

Erik frowned. To hear her so embarrassed and withdrawn made him feel guilty. He had not meant to make her feel she had done any wrong. He could tell she was insecure about her voice and he knew he had just made her very uncomfortable.

"Christine," he began softly, "I merely stopped playing to find the source of such a beautiful voice. You are welcome to sing as I play, or when I'm not playing, or whenever you like. I could not think of anything that would make me happier."

Christine began shuffling through papers and small items. She seemed to be avoiding speaking to him again and he guessed she had turned away from him to avoid looking toward him as well.

Erik let his head fall. He had messed up. She was never going to sing around him again. She probably thought he was an eclectic, strange, lurid, man who entertained himself by making young girls feel uncomfortable. He could see no way to redeem himself from this situation and mentally slapped himself for managing to botch his first actual possibly pleasant human interaction in ages.