“Welcome musicians, to another session,” Haydn said.

A circle of musicians all sat, tired and exhausted. Distant melodies were all singing in their heads.

“Yesterday I watched some ballerinas dance to my Swan Lake. They were impeccable!” Tchaikovsky said proudly.

“Kinda weird you’re watching people dance, Tchaikovsky,” Mozart remarked.

Tchaikovsky ran his fingers through his hair in a fit of anger. “At least I don’t watch babies sleeping to my music!”

“Guys…” Haydn said, trying to break the tension.

Mozart stood up. “Hey, my music helps them sleep! Can’t I be proud that my music is so tasteful even for babies?”

“Yes, yes you can Mozart, Tchaikovsky is just joking, right?” Haydn said, trying to calm the musicians.

“Yes, I was joking.” Tchaikovsky rolled his eyes.

“How are you doing, Beethoven?” Haydn asked.

Beethoven blinked. His fingers were moving fast, as if he were playing the piano.

“Oh…right, he’s deaf.”