Mother wasn't home today. I took the opportunity to visit George again.
He looks at me, lips pressed in a tight line.
"Are you passionate about anything?"
George doesn't say anything, but raises an eyebrow. I sigh and face forward.
"I've always heard that people are truly passionate about one thing in life."
He continues to stare at me. I look down and play with the ends of my skirt.
"I'm passionate about writing, but Mother disapproves. She says it's an impractical career for a young lady...sometimes I catch her tearing up the things I write."
George doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, one single word escapes his lips.
"Music."