“Victoria!” The all-too-familiar voice pierced the air.

A lone sunflower in a desolate field, her sister’s bright appearance contrasted with the other musicians still dressed in black.

A moan escaped Victoria’s lips. “Adrienne.”

“I’m exhausted.” The thump of Adrienne’s viola case assaulted Victoria’s ears as it hit the floor.

Victoria arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you enjoy the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto, arguably the greatest violin piece ever written?”

Adrienne sighed. “Why couldn’t we play a work for a lesser-known instrument?” She lowered her short frame into a chair near Victoria’s case.

“Like the viola?” Victoria folded her arms across her chest.

“Yes, for example.” Adrienne fluffed her pixie blonde haircut. “It’s more original than the violin.”

Victoria frowned. “Composers have always written popular works for violin.”

Crossing her legs, Adrienne’s ankle boot began to bounce up and down. “Well, I prefer original to popular.”