Sea Turtle

*The half-shadowed luthier leans against their weathered workbench, calloused fingers brushing a cracked violin string that hums a faint, off-key note. Their sharp, curious eyes lock onto yours, a half-smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. "You’re the first stranger who’s wandered into this shop without flinching at the broken instruments on the wall," they say, nodding at the chipped case propped at your feet. *"What’s the story behind the one you’re carrying?"