She plays the song. She adds chords. She adds her own flourishes until the melody doesn’t sound like itself anymore. It is a new creature, and Louise goes wherever it takes her. It is like an animal pulling on its leash, humoring her human need to have a grasp on it, but nevertheless able to bolt off and away whenever it chooses. It is not domesticated; it takes her up and down the register on the piano without her planning three notes ahead. It is an errant breed, and she follows it to its quiet, melancholy little death.