drabbleMy blood throbs like the leaves on a limb when a summer gust blows through them. I can feel it rushing through my veins, leaving my pumping heart, and gliding down through my fingertips, which thrill as they reach the ebony. The pounding of my heart at once relaxes, and my lungs seem to expand with some unknown substance, sweeter and lighter than air. I have become one with the music, and my happiness is so great that it hurts. My fingers are moving and my bow is gliding, but I cannot express myself; too much of this feeling has welled up inside of me. I shut my eyes, and tears force their way beneath my lashes. This is happiness.