Then give him one.
It will be.
And it was.
It was more than interesting.
It was a life beginning in public, tender and defiant, under lights that had never been meant for worn sneakers and somehow made room for them anyway.
Elena used to say that music was the only inheritance she could reliably give him. She was wrong about the only, and right about the giving. What she gave him was the courage to ask. What Harold gave him was the shelter of an older person's yes. What Luis gave him was a unlocked door and a clock's worth of trust. What the ballroom gave him, after its initial flinch, was a silence deep enough to hold a first note.