Adagio

I'm honored to be here, I really am. Looking up the glistening reflections of the chandelier. Hearing my feet tap on the marble tile with every step. At least thirty people were here, but were at conversation tone. Music was playing modern-classical, which felt like as if I was in 16th century Verona. A beauty.

I was leaning beside the widened staircase, circling the sparkling champagne in wonder. The golden drink, effervescent with pocketed air. Everything was slow around them. Now I stared at the grand piano, walking near it was a lady in a tight, frilled dress. I'm surprised that she can walk in it.

Sitting down comfortably, I heard the men around my age whispering. Topics about the girl near the piano, being of age of twenty-two. Just around my age.

As I heard the keys play, it sounded familiar. As if I played this piece frequently. Major to diminished, I heard every note. Now I heard her voice, which was fluent in two languages. I was walking near her, hearing what she was singing. Happy Birthday was the piece: the song I made.

I mumbled the lyrics I wrote and sung along with her under my breath. That is, until I heard her stop. We were face to face, but her fingers kept playing. A few notes above C. I walked next to the ones below, singing where the next measure left off. She did nothing but play G# and an A chord.

The grand piano was in front of an enormous window, where there was a view of an acre of her backyard that was covered in snow. Droplets of frozen slush fell from the sky as I heard everything being silent. Everything around us was silent, but we were playing with augments. It's like the only thing soundly was the piano and my voice repeatedly saying "Happy birthday." A slow, tranquil adagio. Peaceful.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you."