8.8 Range & Complexity of Literary Reading Worksheet

The violin case had traveled farther than its owner. It crossed the ocean under a train seat, slept in bus stations, and leaned against the wall of three rented rooms before it reached the apartment where Ana now kept winter coats inside it. The violin itself had been sold years ago to pay a doctor, a fact her mother mentioned only when anger made her honest. Ana disliked the case because it looked like a promise the family had failed to keep. Then her cousin Mateo arrived with a cracked bow and no instrument, claiming he only needed a place to practice his grip. He lifted the empty case as if it weighed music. “Good,” he said. “It already knows how to wait.” Ana almost corrected him. Instead, she cleared out the coats. That night, the case lay open between them, not full, not useless, but shaped exactly like something absent and possible.

The violin case had traveled farther than its owner. It crossed the ocean under a train seat, slept in bus stations, and leaned against the wall of three rented rooms before it reached the apartment where Ana now kept winter coats inside it. The violin itself had been sold years ago to pay a doctor, a fact her mother mentioned only when anger made her honest. Ana disliked the case because it looked like a promise the family had failed to keep. Then her cousin Mateo arrived with a cracked bow and no instrument, claiming he only needed a place to practice his grip. He lifted the empty case as if it weighed music. “Good,” he said. “It already knows how to wait.” Ana almost corrected him. Instead, she cleared out the coats. That night, the case lay open between them, not full, not useless, but shaped exactly like something absent and possible.

The violin case had traveled farther than its owner. It crossed the ocean under a train seat, slept in bus stations, and leaned against the wall of three rented rooms before it reached the apartment where Ana now kept winter coats inside it. The violin itself had been sold years ago to pay a doctor, a fact her mother mentioned only when anger made her honest. Ana disliked the case because it looked like a promise the family had failed to keep. Then her cousin Mateo arrived with a cracked bow and no instrument, claiming he only needed a place to practice his grip. He lifted the empty case as if it weighed music. “Good,” he said. “It already knows how to wait.” Ana almost corrected him. Instead, she cleared out the coats. That night, the case lay open between them, not full, not useless, but shaped exactly like something absent and possible.