Descriptive Essay - Original Writing
Brushing my tears aside, I rushed to my dorm in search of Heather, who was busy in the bathroom.
After she stepped out and saw me perched on my bed like a lifeless machine, she frowned.
"Did the jog tire you out?" she asked.
"You didn 't see Co--my violin, by any chance, did you?" I asked, fresh tears waiting to exit my eyes and dry out on my cheeks.
"It was on your bed." Her eyes frantically searched the area, clicking on nothing. "I went to take a shower and made sure to lock the door before that. Your violin was on your pillow."
Anyone can pick a lock.
Even I knew how to do that. Mum taught me.
"Don 't worry about it," I sighed. It wasn 't her fault. My parents taught me as much to never blame someone else for something I 'm responsible for. My violin is my baby. My number one responsibility. How dare I leave it alone, knowing it can 't yell for help or dial the police phone number? By the way, no, I didn 't give my violin a phone.
"Did someone steal it?" Her mortified tone didn 't make me…