Chapter Six
Rémy
My old classmate, Serge Kuznetsov seemed genuinely glad to see me. Though we didn’t know each other well, he’d always been professional with me and everyone else at the Curtis Institute. I could tell he was attempting to put me at ease, but his courteousness was having the opposite effect.
I was terrified.
Before I arrived today, I’d sent Kuznetsov an email letting him know that I wasn’t speaking to help preserve my voice. Better for him to think that than to know the reality, that I was scared out of my mind that I would fail him, and worse yet that I would ruin what I had left of my tattered career.
One thing I learned after losing my voice was that relying on notes and electronic communication allowed me to control my words better. Instead of blurting out the first
