Every Note Played

At a young age, she learned to pretend that nothing bothered her, to dam up any tears of pity or compassion with great, impenetrable walls.

their contact creates a human connection that feels as vital to him as the air he can still breathe.

Maybe her actions now can be the words she’s still too afraid to offer.

forgiving someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.

Her playing is beautiful, a soft blanket calming his agitated nerves.

Don’t answer a question with another question

sounds and intonation, a song he wanted to learn.

Her voice was a melody of exotic

It’s not that they see him and look away. They never notice him in the first place. He’s part of the background

needs something to do, something to distract him from the bottomless sorrow and anger inside his gut, from the tortured thoughts circling like vultures in his head.