The night was silent except for the rumbles of the moving train, and the only light comes from the millions of stars twinkling in the sky. While the most of the passengers sleep, one middle age musician stays awake reading a book on self-success, but his mind is not focused on the words. Instead, his mind wanders to the idea of returning to the small town of Blue-Creek. Although he spent very little time there, all the town brought was sorrowful memories. There, he had no friends because all he was allowed to do practice piano. There, his mother passed away due to cancer before he could say goodbye. And there, he made his last attempt to show his mother that he could be the best. He still does not know why the town made such a fuss over the eleventh place finish. He had put so much hope into that boy, Kevin, winning. If he had won he would have qualified for states, now that is something to be proud of, not eleventh. His mother was never impressed with him or his friends ever again. Not wanting to stress over the topic anymore, he shut his book, placing it neatly back in his luggage, and carefully made his way over to the pullout bunk, allowing the train's movements to sway him to sleep.
The next day, the musician steps off the train only to be consumed by the heat and stench of the station platform. Wanting to escape the claustrophobic space, he focuses on scanning the crowd for his name. He knows the music school, he came all this way to work for, had ensured him a ride to his new apartment. So he continues to search between either end of the platform skimming through the many people and signs before he spotting his name – PETER HARDING – written in thick black letters. The man holding the sign wore a black tuxedo with a long gray jacket and a black hat; one that you would have seen on a conductor in an old movie. Once Harding introduces himself, the driver lugs his bag to the taxi. The man says very little, however, he does explain basic details about his accommodations upon their arrival. Not at all comfortable about the topic, Peter responds with a nod and quickly climbs up the stairs to the entrance. He does not mean to be rude, but the accommodations that came with the job were the only reasons he agreed to it in the first place. The car rolls away, leaving him with no choice but to stay in the dreaded town. So to avoid dwelling, he admires the new facilities that he will be spending the next bit of his life in. The fro to the building was mainly glass, exposing the many classrooms meant for the musicians, dancers, painters and all other artists. There is an arch in the entranceway leading to a beautiful courtyard with a fountain in the center and all different doors to different parts of the school. He must admit, the school is beautiful, but that does to change the past he has with the town.
Groggily, Peter finds the front deal, gets his room keys, and proceeds to take the elevator to the top floor of the north building. He reaches his room in fair time and gently opens the door to his new home. After dropping his bags, Harding analyzes his whereabouts; noticing hardwood flooring that seemed to continue throughout the house except for the kitchen and bathroom where there were light grey tiles instead. The back wall is made of glass from floor to ceiling, and the view of the lake and green space beyond truly takes his breath away Dark brown curtains hanging from either side framing the view. On the adjacent wall, there is an entertainment unit with a TV and various shelves meant for stereos, DVD players and other personal items. Most would fill the empty space, but Peter knew he would always keep the space bare. He never bothered with personal belongings, just the bare necessities that all fit in the bags sitting at the front door. With that thought, Peter goes to grab his bags passing through the small kitchen in the process. There, he sees some modern appliances and a small table meant for two. He never did learn how to cook, so the small space was just enough for his basic need. Never did he think he would live such a plain life, but it seems like now it is what is best. Luxury is for winners, not runner-ups like himself. Once finding his bedroom he begins to put everything away. Like the living room, it consisted of a wall made of glass but also had a queen size bed, two-night stands, and a door leading into an all-white bathroom. Feeling stressed and dirty, he quickly puts all his belongings away and then strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower. Peter turns the water on to, letting the steaming hot temperature relaxing his body after the long trip. Sub-consciously hums familiar tunes to himself as his troubles wash away.
