Broken Notes

I never thought klaviertastenthat beautiful, black grand piano would be mine someday. But here it is, being carried through the door of my home by the young movers I hired. It’s hard for me to comprehend that my mother let it go, but I suppose she couldn’t have taken it with her in death. I’m sure she would’ve, if it had been possible. She’d be happy performing on a stage in a fiery pit for the devil.

God must’ve realized that and forced her to leave it here.

“Where do you want the piano, Miss?” one of the movers asks me, interrupting my thoughts of Satan clapping after my mother’s performance. I must’ve laughed out loud because the men are giving me strange looks.

“Just put it over there next to the window,” I say and point. They nod and continue with moving the piano. I sigh and sit down on a chair while I watch them. It doesn’t take them too long before they have it in place, the legs placed back, ready for me to play. The young men have moved pianos before and know how to do it fast. After writing them a check, I escort them out the door and then sit back in my chair to stare at the thing.

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