I like the word serenity. I think it looks pretty- it sounds pretty too. Serene is alright, as well as every other variation of the word, but serenity just sticks out to me. It lives in my head like it carved a little spot for itself in the side of my brain. Back home, there's this ice cream parlor on 3rd street and through a window, you see this grand piano. A light shines above it and your focus stays there, not on the waffle cones or the chalk drawings behind the piano. The first time I saw the parlor, I only saw the sign; on a chalkboard with a faded sticker of a man, the name "Serendipity" floating above him. I've only been inside once, and that was enough for me to decide not to step in there again. Too many dim lights, the walls were painted red, and the piano was more haunting than cool. I vividly remember that this piano played a few keys when the light above it shut off, the keys jumping up and down. I truly believed there was an invisible person who sat there and played their tune when the parlor had customers or the workers got bored. I haven't visited in a while, and I'm not sure I'll go back, so I guess I'll never know.
YOU ARE READING
As Of Now
De TodoA reminder of who you were once upon a time, and who you have become since then.
