<div align="center">(http://www.brainerd.com/falltours/images/fall-foliage-minnesota.jpg.jpg)</div><br/>Fall, the leaves were turning all of their lovely colors, the trees were beginning to shed them all for the long winter's hibernation. New England was famous for both it's foliage and it's long, cold winters. Nestled into all of that color among the colonial buildings a small campus that just -reeks- of nostalgia and history. The girl's school was quiet, most students had not arrived for the year yet.<br/><br/>However, on the second floor, at the end of a long wood-paneled hall, behind one dark stained, oaken door, complete with the original crystal doorknob and hardware the sound of music fills the entire floor, the entire building. Sad, longing tones from a precisely tuned instrument.<br/><br/><div align="center">Sad Violin (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIuotFZnBtk#)</div><br/>Behind that sound, behind that door in a room which was only half decorated, and that half that is decorated only sparsely at that a single girl sits in the middle on a wooden chair. An expensive looking instrument held firmly in slender, delicate hands, held in place by a similarly slender chin of deep brown skin. Her eyes, closed as she seems to be pouring her soul out through the instrument she clings to.<br/><br/><div align="center">(http://imageshack.us/a/img547/9274/bg003.jpg)</div>