A young woman strides gracefully across the lit stage
She sits down at the black baby grand and adjusts her bench
Her fingers stay motionless for one moment, poised over the keys
Suddenly, a swirling torrent of sound flows from the piano
It floats and dives, the pianist’s fingers fluttering over the keys, her touch soft.
She sways with the music, and her face is filled with raw emotion
She is like a mime as she sings a song of sadness and longing through her fingertips.
The audience leans forward in their seats, swept up in the beauty and sorrow of her playing.
And suddenly, with a tinkling decrescendo, it ends.
And many a person went home that day swearing they just saw magic.
And maybe they did.
