Late Night Thoughts

Broken Keys

I daintily placed my left hand on the old, wooden piano. I spread my fingers out slightly - my thumb, middle finger and little finger ready to play the notes E, G and B. An E minor chord.

I pressed slowly and shakily and took a deep breath in.

I moved my right hand from its position on my lap to the same notes a few octaves higher. I then pressed down on the sustain pedal - the pedal on the right that holds the notes down - and played both hands at the same time.

The keys were slightly out of tune, but as I began to play more confidently, it became less noticeable - maybe even added to the atmosphere.

I played and played for who-knows-how-long, ignoring the dull ache arising in my fingers and back (as well as the fact that many of the keys were broken).

The sound echoed throughout the large building. The piano was placed in the centre of a stage, hundreds of empty seats surrounding it, and a spotlight shone over it, creating a shadow behind the instrument that only the eye of the player could see.

My fingers were used to the feel of the grand piano, and I had moved on from chords to more complicated pieces.

I moved my hand up to the beginning notes - D for the right hand, B for the left - and began to play 'I Giorni'. Slowly, but surely, I started to build up my confidence, thus allowing me to increase the speed. Soon enough I was lost in my own world, my own universe, leaning into the keys and pouring every ounce of emotion into the melody.

As I neared the end of the piece, I slowed down and increased the volume, until I came to the last chord. I held the chord down longer than I needed to and exhaled. I missed him.

"Bravo," a voice from besides me spoke. I jumped out of my seat and faced the owner of the voice (a teenage boy with a shy smile on his face).

"How long... How long have you been there?" I questioned, letting out a rather fake, breathy laugh (I was out of breath - and yes it is possible to get out of breath from playing the piano).

The echo had dissipated.

"Long enough to hear you play one of my favourites," he replied and smiled, a smile that wasn't completely true.

"I Giorni?"

"Yeah. Einaudi is definitely one of my favourite composers."

The boy had dirty blond hair that had been swept to the side, and green eyes that were illuminated by the spotlight. He took a seat on the piano stool, while I stood dumbfounded next to it.

"Do you... Uh, play?" I asked, curiously. Strangers weren't easy to talk to, even though this one felt all too familiar. He nodded and positioned himself, ready to play. He placed his hands in the right place and spread his fingers out. I couldn't help but notice how his fingers were, as my mum called them, 'piano player fingers' - long, thin and flexible. My whole family has been graced with them. The boy's face relaxed as soon as he played the first notes, a real smile rising on his face. I recognised the song, almost instantly, as 'River Flows in You', A classic by Yiruma. He leaned into the keys in a similar way to me, but the emotions portrayed couldn't be more different.

I couldn't help but notice how carefree this boy seemed when he played. As if, at that moment, he had everything in life. At the same time however, somehow I knew he didn't.

When he finished playing, he still had a bright smile plastered on his face. The kind of smile that made you want to smile too.

So that's exactly what I did.

I smiled, my eyes full of unshed tears ('River Flows In You' always gets to me), and clapped, the sound echoing throughout the large hall.

"You're really good," I breathed. It may not have been a grade 8 piece, but the way he played it made it feel as though he'd been playing his whole life. Maybe he had.

"Thanks." He smiled again. There was just something about this boy.

"How long have you been playing?" I asked him. It may have sounded like I was just making small talk, but I was genuinely curious.

"Three years." His eyes lit up with passion. My brother had been playing for three years too. He had always impressed me with his quick learning.

"Three years?" My eyes had widened and my jaw dropped, making a face that seemed almost comical. "You've been playing piano for three years and you can play like that?" The surprise in my voice was evident. The boy just chuckled and nodded.

"Three years and two months, to be precise."

"What's your name?" He asked me, looking over my features.

"Hayley." I looked him in the eyes. You can learn more from someone's eyes than you can from the way they look, dress and act.

"That's a pretty name." He said it as if he meant it.

"What's your name, charmer?" I asked him, rolling my eyes slightly. My voice wasn't as confident as my words.

"Hm... I think I'll stay mysterious." He winked and grinned at me.

I pouted as he rolled his eyes. My brother got in trouble a lot at school for that.

"So you listen to me play - without me knowing, may I add - then you play for me, then you talk to me, and you won't even tell me your name?"

He checked his hair was in the right place - my brother, Tom, would do that constantly - and then nodded at me, a crooked smile on his face.

Tom, had a smile just like his. It was the one thing about him that could never blend in, no matter how hard he tried. It could never be forgotten.

Suddenly, the atmosphere had changed.

"Please tell me your name," I pleaded. Everything felt too familiar, I needed to know his name.

"I think you know my name, Hayley."

I shook my head back and forth until I felt dizzy, and my eyes clouded over with water.

"T-tom?" I whispered, waterfalls cascading down my face.

And in that moment, he was gone.

The echo was back.

---

This is probably really cringe-worthy so I'm sorry but there are quite a few deep lines in this that I didn't even realise I put in.

I feel like this is one of those really annoying stories that just ends with "and then he woke up. It was all a dream" but you know, I've got to start somewhere ;)

Broken Keys, or alternatively called Echo.