Following the notes, the melodies, as they were carried by the breeze, he couldn’t help but wonder where they would lead him. He had no idea what could create such beautiful sounds, melodies that easily rivaled Beethoven’s, blowing Chopin and Mozart away as if they were mere leaves in the wind. No, he had never heard such magnificence. He followed on blindly, determined to find the source of this sound.

She had a sort of obsession with music. It was her escape. Her mind and ears were filled with it day in and day out. When she walked into the room, she was filled with awe. The beast that stood before her held all the answers, all the truths, never lied. She approached it with great trepidation, careful not to breathe on it as she sat before it, admiring it.

The sound was louder now, closer, he could feel it. He stopped presently, listening. It would be so easy just to stay here, lost in the story that breeze carried. He knew he had to keep going. He had to find whatever it was that could create such delicate lines.

She touched the great beast, feeling the energy erupt on contact, feeling the story aching to be told. She would tell it. She let the story flow from her, losing herself in it.

He slowly approached the building that contained the source of his intrigue. It was a small private dwelling. The sound was coming from an open window. He crept toward it with caution. When he saw the source of the sound, he gasped in astonishment.
Of all the instruments she could play, the piano was her favorite. The sheer sight of the beast was enough to leave her trembling in awe. She had been playing since she was a child, not appreciating the tranquil environment it provided until her late preteens. Now it was her escape. Each time she approached it, she was overcome with a deep sense of awe, sincerity. As she watched her fingers moving, she was lost in the story they told…

There was a girl inside, a girl about his age. He watched in amazement as her fingers glided fluidly over the ivory keys, lost in a story of anguish, despair, and eternal forgiving. He was moved, provoked almost to tears by the melancholy melody. His mind filled with images of a girl, wronged by so many people, never an apology, yet the girl, her smile never faltered. She forgave and moved on. He looked up at the girl before him, immersed in the sound her fingers created, or perhaps telling the story they carried, oblivious to everything else. He felt something break in his chest, his heart. He wasn’t aware he had one…..

She played on and he listened to the melody she birthed, a melody sweeter than any other.