Pepi Litman -

A young boy named Leo, soaking wet and shivering, darted under Pepi’s awning to escape the deluge. Leo was clutching a broken violin. It was a cheap thing, the varnish peeling, the neck snapped clean off. It was his grandfather’s, and Leo had tripped while running home from school, snapping the instrument in two just weeks before the old man’s birthday.

Pepi looked down. He had a way of looking at people that made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered, even though he was staring over the rim of his teacup. pepi litman

Leo turned bright red. It was true. He had spent three years dragging the bow across the strings, hating every second, just to see his grandfather smile. A young boy named Leo, soaking wet and