Spring Day

Part I

You met him, on a spring day.

It was a lovely day, with fat, fluffy clouds drifting lazily across the clear blue sky and green trees waking up after their slumber through the cold winter. It was the kind of day where you felt that you could do anything and that everything was going right in the world. You looked forward to that night's performance at the newly-built theatre, named the Nine Muses. A rich patron of the arts had donated money to build the magnificent place, containing a huge air-conditioned auditorium with velvet seats, large practice rooms, and galleries to display everything from art to vintage collections.

Today was the grand opening of the theatre, and a whole day of festivities was planned. After the traditional cut-the-ribbon by the mayor, people were free to go in and walk around in the galleries, which depicted a large collection of artistic masterpieces. Then at night, there was going to be a concert in the new auditorium, featuring a well-known symphony orchestra, some opera singers, and a piano performance by you. As a pianist, you had achieved some fame both online and in real life, and it was not uncommon for you to receive invitations to play at large events. It had been a while though, and this was the perfect opportunity to remind people that a talented pianist was still among them.

You wanted to stroll through the galleries, but there were too many people who were taking advantage of the "free admission on opening day!" deal. Tired of the crowd, you slipped into the auditorium to check out the performance area. It looked just like a traditional theatre—three levels of red velvet seats, with balcony areas and an orchestra pit. Rows upon rows of empty plush seats stretched into the distance, while the polished wooden stage gleamed under the lights.

Not wanting to waste electricity, you turned off all the lights except those that illuminated the stage and the first few rows of seats. Stepping onto the stage, you spied the edge of a grand piano peeking out from behind the purple curtains. Why not practice your pieces right now and get a feel of how it will sound in such a spacious area?

You managed to push the piano out far enough so that the curtains weren't obstructing any part of it, and propped up the top. Sitting on the leather piano bench, you played a simple C major scale. The notes pierced the silent auditorium, crisp and clear. It was a really good piano, and a new one from the feel of it. It did feel a bit different from your own piano, but it will do for tonight's performance.

Your fingers moved of their own accord, pushing on the black and white piano keys with precision. You had been practicing for this night for a while now, and each piano piece had been polished until you were sure that every dynamic was right, every note the right length, and every transition was smooth. It wasn't easy, however, no matter how talented you might be. You couldn't hear the music, because you were deaf. But you could feel the music, and that made the songs you played so much more emotional. It was ironic—a pianist who was deaf—but you had made it through one of the best music programs in the country and made a decent living. So even though you were deaf, you were still pretty content with your life.

One song ended, and the next begun. Closing your eyes, you felt your fingers skim over the smooth surface of the piano keys and heard in your mind what the piece was supposed to sound like. Like always, you poured your heart and soul into the piece, even though there wasn't an audience. In your mind, the music flowed out like a river, cutting through the chaotic noises of city life. The notes came together to form a beautiful masterpiece full of raw emotions, from anger to joy to grief. In that moment, you forgot that you were in an empty auditorium; instead, you were transported to the moment the composer wrote the song, and you understood what he felt as he committed the notes to paper through a feather quill. This was why you chose a life of music—you might not be able to hear, but the music will still perform its magic.