"My name is Maya Chen," Maya said quietly. "My father taught me to play piano. He was... he was a professional pianist."
Dr. Rosetti's eyebrows went up. "Chen? Was your father David Chen, by any chance?"
Maya gasped. "You knew my father?"
"I knew of him," Dr. Rosetti said excitedly. "I heard him perform several times. He was magnificent—one of the most gifted pianists of his generation. I always wondered what happened to him. He seemed to disappear from the concert circuit a few years ago."
Maya felt tears coming to her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had spoken about her father with respect and admiration.
"He died in a car accident two years ago," Maya said softly. "Everything changed after that."
Dr. Rosetti reached across the table and gently touched Maya's hand. "Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry for your loss. Your father was a remarkable musician, and clearly he passed his gift on to you."
Maya told Dr. Rosetti about her life before her father died. She talked about the big house with the music room. She talked about the conservatory and her friends there. She talked about the concerts she used to perform in.
Then Maya told Dr. Rosetti about what happened after her father's death. She talked about her mother's sadness and illness. She talked about losing their house and having to sell the piano. She talked about the shelter and how her mother disappeared.
Dr. Rosetti listened to every word without interrupting. Her face showed sadness and concern, but also anger at how unfair life had been to Maya.
"How long have you been on your own?" Dr. Rosetti asked.
"Six months," Maya said. "I try to find places to sleep that are safe. Sometimes I find food in garbage cans. Sometimes people give me money, but not very often."