Rain was splattering Dalton with a force as Kurt sat in the serene room with a grand piano infront of him.
His fingers ghosted over the keys before he beagn to start to play an Andante of sorts.
His piano teacher taught him the song.
The sound was echoing off the paino, broadcasting it so that the level and the floor on top could hear him played.
He imagined when he was young.
He remembered his mom playing the piano for him on rainy days like this.
He trilled a note.
On other days, his mother, Elizabeth, would bring him to a grass field near their house to have picnics, and she would play classical music like this, recorded from her home.
Kurt would sit on the picnic carpet and eat his share of fruits as his mother told him stories.
The wind would breeze over their hairs.
Kurt smiled at the memory.
He played louder to a crescendo.
After his mother told him those stories, he would sit by, and tell her a story that he made up.
It's been a long time since he heard her laugh.
Kurt played quietly and ended the song.
He sat there for a moment as melancholy tears formed, with a slight smile on his face, before leaving the room.
Outside, a rainbow, after the rain, formed.
