Cleo liked to imagine her life with a soundtrack.

Yet, as she sat there that day, she couldn't quite imagine something sad enough.

In her head she could almost hear the woeful, slow swipes of a violin. Or the piano keys in a minor key that always seemed to evoke emotion from her. Or the slight scuff of a guitar string on a major chord. Or the slight crack in a vocalist's shining solo piece.

Yet, she still couldn't quite seem to find the notes downcast enough to fit the requirements of the dire situation at hand.

Sometimes the saddest songs are in major key.