Something had her mind's eye. 
 
"Do you remember the time in the old house when my cello caught fire?" she asked. "You ran downstairs, slipped on the cat puke, broke your toe and burned away most of your hair. Do you remember that?" 
 
I'd spent eight days in a local hospital. The incident fits among my least forgettable. 
 
"Vaguely," I replied, peeking over my glasses. "Why do you ask?" 
 
"No reason, really," she said. "Hearing Yo Yo Ma always makes me think of that cello is all."

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