Seven weeks. Seven lives. Seven stories.
Wednesday, 1:53 P.M. Winetka Falls H.S. study hall.
Danny drums his fingers on the desk, more and more rapidly. Then he stops. He narrows his eyes at the piece of paper in front of him. It's no less blank than it was five minutes ago, five hours ago, or five days ago. The notes just won't come to him.
Danny's fingers start up once more, beating a frantic rhythm on the desk. He wonders - will he ever compose another piece of music again? Will he ever create anything again?
