It started with an F chord
Those notes slashed his eardrums amidst the darkness
A welcome twinge nods his mind's eye
And so he begins to play
His fingers gliding slowly upon the keys in front of him as he rides the music in his mind
Soon, all tentativeness is gone and it goes into a crescendo
And his hands struggle with finding the proper sounds echoing inside of him
Silence quickly covers the room
"Time for dinner," says a somewhat distant voice
"The world moves on without you"
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