The piano keys were smooth, each one pressing down lightly as the music escaped the instrument. My fingers flew over the keys, instinctively knowing which keys to press. The piano was my counterpart, my partner to a dance that whirled around my head and poured out from my fingertips. At least, that's how it used to be. Now I felt stiff, disjointed from the piano that sat in the middle of the stage. I wasn't one with the piano, it was a completely different, inanimate object. I couldn't even understand how it once felt alive to me. I press the last key, completely unsatisfied with the standing ovation I was receiving for the song. I stand and bow, leaving the stage. I glimpsed one of the posters the had been advertising my concert. Black letters spelling out "The Prodigy" filled my vision. That word followed me everywhere, a cage I was unable to escape the moment I touched a piano. Prodigy.