We meet in the early hours of the day, bleary-eyed and yawning. I am coming into the library to start my day and you are leaving at the end of yours. We have our Intro to Biology lecture together, so I wave. You take out one headphone.

The little boy plunks out a slow rendition of “Mary Had A Little Lamb” on the pristine white keys of the piano in the lobby. It’s one of the first songs he was taught to play and sometimes he longs for the simplicity of it. These days, all he plays are technical practice etudes or endless repeats of the pieces selected by his teacher for competitions. He sighs as he plays, swinging his feet.