𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮 ~ 𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓶

Ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ

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𝓔𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓸 𝓿𝓾𝓵𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓲𝔁 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓽

𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝒹, 𝒶 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈

☆꧁༒꧂☆

Soft sounds of a piano leaked into the cold night covered streets. Slender fingers danced on the keys in a medium paced, minor tune. Left hand keeping up with the repetitive rhythm, and the right playing out the melody with an eerie precision.

He sat on the seat, eyes closed, a certain melancholy to his straight back and the dance that his fingers were playing out in the old black piano. His hair fell over his face as he tilted his head back down to look at the old piano keys; his hands finishing the piece with a chord, and a high octave. Silence graced his apparent as he sat there quietly listening to the last bits of vibration leave the air.

He let out a small sigh, and grabbed the phone that was laying on top of the old piano. Turning it on he looked through, checking for any new messages that he might have missed. Not seeing anything too urgent he closed the phone and put it into his pants pocket and glanced at the clock ticking away in the wall. 10.30 pm it read, in gold Roman numerals standing bright against the black background. With a light frown crossing his features, he stood up from the piano stool and headed to his bedroom to get changed into his work clothes. Reaching his bedroom he headed straight to the closest to grab appropriate clothes. He changed into a black turtleneck, black pants and a chest holster. Walking out of his room he grabbed his messenger bag, black trench coat and dark blue scarf, and hurried out of the door promptly locking it.

The streets were cold and wet because it had just finished raining. The man walked in long strides, following to the beat on the music that he was listening to through his headphones. His workplace was not too far away, but it still required him to take the train there. Getting to the station he didn't have to wait long for the next train to arrive, and seeing that the station was also half empty, he didn't have to spend his time looking for a seat or being squished by a crowd of people.

In 15 minutes he was out of the station with only a five minute walk to his workplace. Soon he was at the familiar building, walking toward the iron door that was the entrance to the morgue. The familiar sound of his boots clicking down the stairs filled the silent hallway. The man walked to his office, switching out his black trench coat for a white long lab coat, and walked to his desk where a pile of files and papers stood and waited to be organized.

Grabbing and looking through the right files he scanned over the work that he was to do for the night. A sigh left his lips as he realized he might be stuck here for longer than he originally intended. In the end he resorted to getting to work as fast as he could, and dragging himself out of his office and to the rooms where the bodies were kept.

~

His shift ended at about 8 am, but he always liked to stay a little longer, waiting for his coworker who took over the day shifts. Pulling out a book and making himself comfortable in his office couch he transferred his mind to the mystery novel he was reading.

His reading was interrupted by his coworkers clicking high heels heading down the hall to the office that she has taken over after the boss. A few minutes later he heard a knock on his door, and the frame of his coworker Eeriest Sciaphilia entered without waiting for him to answer.