Standing in front of a crowd, I play my keyboard along to the kind of beat you can feel in your soul. Its rhythmic flavor reaches inside me and pulls out the kind of music you can only dream to compose. The crowd is going wild, writhing along with the whooshing sound as I let my fingers drift across the keys of my keyboard.
Wait, where is the rest of the band, though? Who is making that beeping noise?
Beeps are offset with whooshes, holding a constant, yet familiar rhythm.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Peeling my dry eyelids open, I'm met with harsh white light in a harsh white room that comes into focus all too slowly. The smell of antiseptic tickles my nose, evoking a sense of memory to tell me where I am. If I had any question, the feeling of the rough hospital gown rubbing against my skin as I attempt to shift in bed seals the deal.
"Lay back, sweetie."
