most likely goodies ; an update book

Something that was suppose to be a story

His abrasive, calloused hands glided across the ivory keys with such an elegance that can only be compared to fine wine. The hindmost placement of keys made his body toss, elongate to the point of panic that his deliberate memorization of those very keys would fail him. Yet, at the conclusion, plaudits would never cease. He bowed, those feelings of lachrymose kindling in his stomach.

He'd never envision that him, a blunderbuss, would end up lavishing in optimism as a virtuoso.

☁︎

"Envision the opportunity, not the failure."

"The adversity seems esoteric and obviate. I want the facile way."

Brice's mind hadn't functioned in the same ways as others his age did. Rather been being obtuse, his thoughts were more acute. He was the affable type of guy, yet unapproachable at the same time. Complex, yet compelling. He was dusk; the melting legion colors that trampled through the sky one final time.

"You're not bound to the disease of yours," Seto repeated to him. "Your pessimism is a hindrance to you."

"What do you expect me to be?" Brice snapped, cocking his head away. "I'm going to be blind, Seto. I'm losing my fucking vision. I know you're not lukewarm to the idea, but it's happening."

"Then what are you going to do," Seto murmured, "remain overwrought with this information? It's not too late, Brice. Art takes many forms, and it does not discriminate against the—"

"A penguin attempts to fly, and a blind kid wanting to play piano? It's a waste of everyone's time," Brice finally stood up, the heel of his shoe burrowing deep into soot. "Don't waste your precious breath on me."

☁︎

Brice's world was a maelstrom of a growing darkness.

"Brice, sweetheart, can I come in?"

"When penguins fly, then yes."

He heard his bedroom door creak open. His mother, a lanky blond with a pallid skin tone, stepped in. She didn't approach Brice, knowing he had adored his own personal space. She instead stood at the doorframe, leaning against it as if it was her brawny husband.

"I heard you had an argument with your friend, Seto," she took the initiative in the conversation.

"It's inconsequential," Brice spat. "You don't need to scrutinize over my friendship with him. It's fine. Totally fine."

"Is this about—"

"Choroideremia. An x-linked recessive hereditary trait that mostly impacts men. Retinal loss; detrimental to one's own sight."

"You won't fully lose your sight until you reach your fifties—"

"It's progressing faster than anticipated. I'm going to be blind by the time I get into college," Brice croaked helplessly. "It's a malediction to me and my whole life."

"I just want you to be happy, Brice. That's all a mother can ask for. Is there anything I can do to make this all easier for you?"

"Let me see again, and maybe then my serrated personality will fix itself."

His bedroom door shut.