[ MP ] Listen to this piece , then write a response

A soft smile on his lips, he winds the music box again. It takes only a few twists of the key for the mahogany top to ease open. Once again the players take their places: the dashing swordsman, the lovely princess, and the foul monster. They circle around again and again while the tinny melody fills the air, so familiar and playful. Spritely notes fill the room as he watches those figures go around their track, circling around again and again, never ceasing in their little quest. 
 
 His father used to tell him different stories each night while the music box played. One night the monster captured the princess and the swordsman saved her, as he should - the hero always wins in the end, right? Another evening the three made peace and lived in harmony, sharing lunch with one another. It was silly, but it was a twist on an old and tired storyline. Night after night, a new retelling of the same case of characters; some subtle, some blatant, always special. 
 
 With a final chime, the figures jerk to a stop on their paths. Soft mechanical sounds fill the room once more as he raises a hand to his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks. As the top slowly closes on that dear wooden box, that nostalgic music is replaced with a steady tone from the heart monitor. He thought he had heard all the stories, but he was n't prepared for the day the hero finally lost.
