Three very short drabbles taken from sentences that grew out of control and became their own self-contained stories. Place them in whatever context you so desire =)

Victory

He doesn't kiss her senseless (although he would like too); instead he settles for a bone-crushing hug and whispers something in her ear about what they will do in private that makes her blush and hide her face against his shoulder. Len rests his chin on her head and looks up to meet Tsuchiura's eyes, wanting to smirk triumphantly; instead he grins like a besotted fool because he can feel Kahoko's eyelashes flutter against his neck and her lips turn up into a smile. Tsuchiura averts his eyes. When the couple shows no sign of parting any time soon he walks away, silently admitting defeat.

Balloon

Len has a theory: if you stand just so and hold your bow at the proper angle and exert the correct amount of pressure on the strings, your violin will reward you with a pure, perfect note, like a proud teacher doling out treats to good students. Kahoko listens solemnly while he tries to tell her this, but after a few sentences she is already shaking her head. "No," she says, gesturing towards the vast expanse of blue sky overhead, where a lone red balloon floats a thousand feet up, "No . . . music isn't given to us--we set it free."

Memory

This is how he will always remember her: elbows out, eyes closed, and face suffused with an ethereal glow as her rosined bow slides across perlon strings. Heads bow, as if in prayer, as the heart achingly beautiful notes of her violin give voice to the ineffable. She is saying goodbye, good luck, and I hope we meet again.

Attraversiamo.