Avalanche

I’m trying to sort out my feelings about this Valentine’s Day and everything. I really have to think about this.
The weather is awful, so we had one of Milborough’s all-too-rare snow days. Charles Wallace and I were home. My mother had to go to the hospital early, since the reports coming in from the 415 (the nearest highway near us) were really bad. My father stayed home from work and sat down with the laptop to check early scouting reports for the baseball season.
Around 9 or so Duncan came over. I got out the present I had for him, and gave it to him after he got off his coat.
“Strings! Cool! And a new bass strap! And one of those cool new pickups! Wow! This is great!” He had a big package behind him. “This is really, really, great, you know. I thought you were more interested in music than you said, and this proves it. Wait til you see this!” He pulled out the package at that point. “Go ahead—open it.”
I opened the package to see another package. A leathery mould-covered package. I opened that up and pulled out a saxophone. The vestibule started to smell like a bar basement.
“You can play this: we really need a horn player to sound better, and you’re into all this, I can see,” Duncan said. I just stared at the saxophone. Duncan had put some reeds in the mouldier bit of the case. Fortunately his cellphone rang just then. He answered, apologized a few times while getting his coat on, and left. “So, what do you think?” he asked as he went out the door.
“Well, this has taken our relationship to a new level,” I said. I shut the door and put down the saxophone. Wilco hopped downstairs to look at it. “Oh Wilco, what am I going to do with a mouldy saxophone that I can’t even play?” Wilco picked up the package of reeds and then dropped it. “You’re right, you know.”