Dust
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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Oct 29, 2014
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Fiction
Romance
I stare at the piano. The keys, old and rustic. The only piano he could find. The only one he could afford. I watched the piano. Every time he hit a key, dust would fly off. Dust collected over time. Over time. Over time, I grew to love him. My love for him grew.
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#31
onetreehill
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Mother used to love it when I played the piano, she was the one that taught me actually. And I'm actually quite grateful, I wouldn't have joined the Ouran High School Host Club if it wasn't for me playing the piano. I do have to say, I do miss her.But what can I say? I always do have the soft piano that I will always play when I miss her. -----

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