He walked forward to the shiny pitch black structure at the center of the stage. He ran his fingers across the ivory keys that marched into view as soon as he lifted the lid. He slowly breathed as he look his seat, pulled on his white gloves and adjusted the black bow on his neck.
The hall was quiet and he could feel the piercing gaze of the audience. As he struck the first key, the world started to fade. It was just himself and the piano. There were times when he'd picture the playground girl, and play so peacefully like she was teaching him how to flow.
The music filled the atmosphere, taking with it the souls of the listening atmosphere. His notes were self composed, it was as if he was angry, confused and sad all at the same time. The way he played was amusing, no wonder he gained an international audience. His parents would've been proud.
