Project Magic Music

✧˚ · . Starting a symphony ☄. *. ⋆

To love something is a great joy but when the time comes to lose it, it will tear one apart. Elliot knew this too well, he longed for that sense of commitment that so many have had before but how can you commit to something that doesn't even exist? The town's bustling streets encased elliots worries with a happy buzz of conversation as he walked his street home. Not once waving to passing pedestrians, not smiling at the cheerful children or not even tipping his hat to the ladies in the stores. He kept his head down trudging home for what seemed as if it should be the last time. But he knew very well that it wouldn't be. Another day would pass and another walk he would force himself to take. It was all a pattern, a repetitive pattern that Elliot knew much more than he knew of himself. He would wake at the rise of the sun, settle in, arouse with a decent breakfast, and begin work on his project, then give up and take a walk. The only difference there ever seemed to be was the fact that his project would change almost daily. One day a new piece of a song, the next day scrap it and start a new one. The days crawled by and Elliot was waiting for the day he knew something would finally happen. Life can't repeat itself too many times, surely there was an end to this infinite loop he seemed to be buried so deeply into, right? Elliot reached his flat and slid his key into the lock making it click with a familiar noise. Elliot often wondered if that noise could sound good in music. But he did not dare try to replicate it with his select instruments he was so dearly fond of. Music was art but it was not playtime, create what you must, what sounds right, good, and pleasing to the ear, nothing more. The door creaked open with a high pitched squeak and Elliot stepped in swiftly closing it behind him. He set his coat on an elaborate gold coat hanger poking out of the closet by the door. And laid his hat on the entrance table amongst the scattered quills and papers. A quiet meow came from around the corner and a tabby cat appeared at elliots feet and began rubbing herself against his ankles affectionately.

"Hello Maggie" Elliot bent over scooping the cat into his arms gently, it let out a soft pur and continued to rub her head on his arm, "I hope your day was more exciting than mine, or else im afraid we both had horribly boring days" He let out a sigh gave maggie one last stroke and let her leap to the ground from his arms. Looking around Elliot decided he would make some tea, slipping his boots off by the door he made his way into the titled kitchen. Moving the many cookbooks and random sheet music aside he searched the cabinets for his tea box. Grabbing the tea box, Elliot stands up and sets it on the counter. Moving aside a stack of books, and a box of golden silverware, he began to look for his favorite mug. Elliot did have a bit of attachment issues when it came to inanimate objects and old trinkets. This often led to them cluttering his flat, although he kept it slightly organized it always seemed a bit of a mess. Elliot finally found his mug, a white ceramic with a golden music note painted on the front. He gently set it on the counter beside the tea box, and grabbed the kettle from his stove.