To: Me
From: the Piano Player
Xxx.mp3 – Listen to this.
He pressed play and a light, airy tone filled his room. The notes floated in his mind softly, as if she’d caressed those keys as those notes caressed him. The sudden rises of passion surprised him, but it fell just as quick, and didn’t seem to make the piece unpleasant. But despite the imperfections, the crackle of the speakers because the recording wasn’t good, and the messages he’d receive that would stop the music for a bit, it was beautiful. It was different. It was her, and this was another siren song.
He’d never been so quiet in his life.
To: Me
From: the Piano Player
So?
To: the Piano Player
From: Me
It’s amazing, honestly. You deserve your title.
To: Me
From: the Piano Player
I still have ways to go. But I’m glad you like it.
To: the Piano Player
From: Me
Of course I would; like it, I mean. Why wouldn’t I?
To: Me
From: the Piano Player
Because it’s for you.
To: the Piano Player
From: Me
Huh?
To: Me
From: the Piano Player
Never mind.
To: Me
From: the Piano Player
I’m sleeping now.
To: the Piano Player
From: Me
Good night. Sweet dreams.
She didn’t reply.
YOU ARE READING
The Piano Player
Teen FictionSome people were born into lives that seem to be written by boy band-obsessed fan girls, or introverted poets, or dreamers that never stop floating into the clouds. With lives full of conflict and interest and changes, they just simply made chameleo...
