Magnum Opus[]
No matter how many times I play it, this damn song sounds dissonant! But mother wants me to master it, and so I play it over and over, day in, and day out…
Practice, practice, practice. That's what mother always says. Mother! She smothers me, always at my elbow, always criticizing... ""Again,"" she says. ""Again. Again.""
Mother calls me a prodigy, and THAT is why she insists on perfection. No matter how many times I perform it, it just doesn't please her. She watches from her chair with a slight frown and nothing more... (I'd give anything to see her smile just once when the song ends...)
I'll practice until my fingers cramp, until I can't stand straight, until I've perfected this piece! I'll perform something so exquisite, so flawless, she won't have anything to criticize ever again. That will show her.
This will be my masterpiece!
