Fantasie-Impromptu

V. Glass Capsule

It had already been a few weeks now, the two next-door neighbors opening their eyes to meet the morning sunshine at their wake each day (sometimes some mild drizzle if the clouds would pay them some mercy), and things have really started to become what's more like daily routine from there.

Franz would greet the sun first, reflect the warmth of it on his face, and freshen up. Maybe have a bite or two at some bread, and his favorite step in the routine, of course, would be to take joy in listening to the faint piano melodies muffled by the walls that had separated his unit from 045's just before leaving for work.

Notes against notes, beautiful harmonious intertwines of tunes desperately trying tell a story, an intoxicating beat of the piano strings, mesmerized in the battle of fingers against keys - and that's exactly how Franz would love to start his day. In fact, that's how Franz had always started his day ever since a new neighbour moved in a few years back - listening to the mysterious "piano man" next door that he would always catch before leaving - and finally knowing who the piano man is, the music had never meant so differently before, graced with an entirely new feeling for Franz that he had loved to be yielded in.

Like a magnetic pull of some sort, or perhaps a dream he would never want to wake up from - Franz would find it difficult to leave his flat each time as the graceful steps of keys, constricted sounds by the walls he'd wish he could break, would float around his unit, hypnotizing Franz with music. But, his will needed to be strong. Franz would leave before he'd get late for work, as disappointing as that may be for him, but he does it anyway, for the sake of not getting fired.

And then there's Fryderyk:

Fryderyk would usually wake up a bit later than Franz. He'd be somewhat sluggish in the morning and he hated going out early, so often times, Fryderyk would just laze around in the day. Perhaps play a bit of piano, completely oblivious of his special audience from room 046, and ultimately only start composing at around 10 am when Franz would have already left for the café casually an hour before then.

By the late afternoon, Fryderyk would head to the café as well and ask for his usual: a cup of medium roast with two cups of milk and extra sugar - which by now all the employees would have already memorized - and then go straight into his spot at the corner of the café, chair basked in appropriate sunlight and the view of some passersby fairly granted to the man.

Now, all these recounted are actually just habits and tasks that the two would have already been doing for years, but here's where things have started to get a bit tipsy recently:

Fryderyk would work on his compositions in the café until closing time, bidding his goodbyes to Hector, and then eventually walk home with Franz in the near dark of nine o'clock, maybe even laugh at a few jokes along the way, and I beg you not, but believe me when I say, some employees might have even speculated that perhaps Franz and Fryderyk were just a little bit of something more than friends, though we all know in truth that they are absolutely not anything more than so. Or at least not yet-

Because today was a special day; today was different. It was Franz' day-off and he had invited himself over to Fryderyk's place once again (just like how he had a few times before in the past weeks), playing along on Fryderyk's piano for avocation, sweet effortless duets (where behind one of those notes, either of them might have probably poured in just a tad bit more love for the other man than most friendships would have most likely), occasionally ornamented with the unpretentious chitchats about all sorts of experiences in life, and perhaps even sparing a few moments to share some reminiscences of when Franz was still the renowned child prodigy he used to be.

It wasn't too music-centered, actually - their conversation, that is - but they did somehow touch the topic of composition today. The way each notes would fit from tone to tone and Fryderyk had apparently been a child prodigy too! A young pianist and composer whose fame had grown wide in his home country of Poland. Name known all throughout the place, and his music proclaimed.