"Once again I am rejected." He winced, all comic exaggeration, the tune of his lute turned to the most soulful, sorrowful chords he knew. "However shall I find it in me to play with this broken heart? All my dreams lay as shards among..."

Strum strum, if he was given a moment he would find the right word.

Brasca.
"Among..." Well this was embarrassing wasn't it?


"...Hm. What rhymes with heart and sounds appropriately shattered and maudlin?"