Painting The Sonata

Chapter 2

Elliot:

I wake up to the smell of coffee, which alarms me that my mother is awake. I get out of bed and pan my surroundings before I get up. Even though I always seem to see the same things every day from my sketches, to my oil paintings on the wall, to my dresser and my window that faces the same old house. I get up, almost not wanting to, like some gravitational force is sucking me back to bed. I get dressed, look in the mirror to fix my bed head as much as I can, and then I walk down stairs into the kitchen.

I see my mom in the kitchen sipping her morning coffee before she goes out to work. The light from the window is framing her face so delicately you can almost see every feature of her in vivid detail. From the constellation of freckles on her face, the sharpness of her jaw that doesn't seem to fade, and her honey brown hair swaying gently back and forth as if there was a breeze in the room.

I look at her and give a simple "Good morning."
She looks at me like she usually does, in a pondering manner like she's trying to study me and says, "Good morning Elliot." I walk up to her, and she hands me our routinely morning coffee drink.
"I heard there where some new neighbors moving into the old house across the street from us."

"You mean the house that faces my window"
"Yup" she says.
"Yup" I reply back.
After I finish chugging down the semi-hot coffee down my throat, I grab my bag, kiss my mom on the cheek, and run out of the house. "Have a good day mom." I semi-yell, "You too." She returns.
The first thing that catches my attention as I walk out of the house is the giant red U-HAUL truck bringing down a grand piano. A man with salt and pepper hair is talking to the man bringing the piano down saying something along the lines of "My daughter will be so happy her piano came today."
This genuinely does peek my interest since I've never seen a piano so delicately grand like this one, his daughter must have good taste in music as well. I can sense it.

I continue to glance, but school is waiting and I'm already running late. As I'm walking I begin to think about that piano again, and how beautiful it would be to make a watercolor painting of it, I can only dream of it that's for sure.