The Piano


The school was nearly empty now. Everyone except a few staff members had gone home. The halls were empty, but still echoed the sounds of loneliness.

One boy walked through these halls, alone. Waiting. Listening to the ambience. Watching the little clock on his phone, waiting for enough time to pass.

Finally, he goes and checks. The chorus room. He seriously doubted anyone was still there, but he had to make sure. Surely enough, the room was dark. Thankfully, one of the doors was still unlocked. He slipped inside, silently.

He still waited a few minutes, not wanting anyone to intrude. This was his time, and he didn’t want any interruptions to the peace. After the tension of possible intrusion eased, he finally relaxed and sat down at the piano.

He played, and started the melody soft. Simple scaling, nothing very complex. He surely wasn’t the greatest player in the world, but he’d definitely grown his skills a lot since when he’d composed this melody. And then came the chords. And then, came the words. He didn’t sing much, but this was okay, no one was around to hear him but himself now. He sang the first verse.

The words weren’t written by him. They were written by her, and that’s why he believed this song truly belonged to her.

He started by singing softly, but as it progressed, the words became stronger, deeper. He didn’t just sing these words, he felt them. He released them. The room echoed them back to him so he could hear the power.

By the final verse, the melody has evolved into something completely different. And he found himself wishing, somehow, that she could be here to hear it. To hear her own words again, and the pure beautiful nature of the sound.

He finishes the song, closes it with one last scale and a final chord.

And that’s when he realized.

He knew all along it wasn’t just his song.

But it wasn’t just her song, either.

It was their song.



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