Magic is Just Spending More Time on Something Than Any Reasonable Person Would

The horn fits in my hands exactly the way it always has, easily, like a good pair of shoes or jeans that you barely notice. 

My mouth, however, is another matter entirely. My lips feel abused, swollen, the way they felt after a clumsy makeout session in high school.

I squawk and squeal, make some passable sounds, keep playing, pushing past my desire to quit, because I know that if I keep doing this, somehow the muscles will eventually build themselves back up, and I'll be playing pretty well in no time.