After the last chord he rubbed his hands. The ache from playing felt even stronger with the silence of the audience. The darkness of the bar shrouded the gazes from the public, but the pianist could feel the indifference.
“Tough audience.” – he thought with a smile.
Without skipping a beat, he started playing again.
An easier melody from his childhood, filled with joy, candor and juvenile wonder. His hands rested and his mood improved.
\"Hope the boss won\'t mind me going off-playlist.\"–he wondered while trying to decipher the audience\'s looks.
As he approached the final section of the song, he made an awkward twirl with the hand and concluded the song without much pizzazz.
Silence yet again, but from the darkness a shy clap was heard. An old man, supported by his cane, walked to the edge of the stage.
Good song, friend. –he smiled– Please, play it again.
Are you sure? –the pianist answered, looking for the approval of the crowd.
Very. – he replied – Just… play it right this time.
The old man winked at him and gave him a tap with his cane. The pianist noted the carved rabbit’s head the cane had as a handle.
The piano man took a breath and turned again at the keyboard in front of him. He looked… He saw the keys, the wood and the smell of sassafras came back to him. He hovered his hands for a moment and started playing.
The first passage tasted like the caramel apples they shared that first summer. The chorus felt like the rides they took together, that had gone rusty with age. Stepping on the left pedal reminded his foot of that sprained ankle he had as he chased after her between the flashing lights and the food stands.
Her raven black hair flowed with the soft breeze and the summer flowers filled the air with a lovely scent as the day turned to night, a major chord of sensations. He grabbed her hand and walked to the woods in a crescendo, and between fairies and fireworks he removed her carnival mask and gave her a kiss. The music swelled to a grandiose finish.
The crowd stood up in celebration. The old man was waiting for them on the next carny game with a joyous smile. The pianist stepped down, found her among the crowd – the smell of sassafras enveloped him again. He took her hand and left with her for the forest.
Takip Et