Poison Oak
"I'm glad you got away but I'm still stuck out here..."
Poison Oak, Bright Eyes
His black primped suit contrasted to his disheveled state, the walls black with a bare lightbulb hanging overhead. A lone figure plays the piano.
Louis' trembling hands glided over the piano, the twinkling of the keys ringing out through the silent room. He had heard the news and lost the ability to function. He was a statue back then. Paralysis was now over and he's never been more drunk.
He focuses on the music, and messes up once, twice, three times.
A few seconds later did he realize he was pressing the keys, reversed.
He stopped, his palms resting on the detestable keys. The ringing of silence was unnerving. He hears the echo of the keys playing in solitary.
He brings down his fingers on the piano, with so much force, but the notes come out high and melodious, each varying in different tones.
The sound strangely seeps of loneliness and remorse. It seems the pianist is in peace murmuring softly,
"He doesn't like low notes. Do you, Harry?"
With his eyes closed, he smiled slightly as the silence answered him.
