Strung

It’s a weekend night and I’ve picked my best suit for tonight – an ebony blue, single-breasted suit – with a white shirt with prints of sails you’d notice if you looked closely. I kept the tie plain, matching the suit in colour and the shoes a teak oxford. The highlight of the outfit was a secret – the multicoloured striped socks with stripes in outrageously bright shades of yellow, orange, red, and maroon. I brushed my hair back and then ruffled it lightly. And finally, I dabbed some mahogany musk to the designated pulse points before putting the white handkerchief in the right back pocket of my pants. I left the phone behind as I picked up my wallet and, stepped out onto the street with a black trench over my shoulders and a clear umbrella in hand – just in case.
The streets smelt like cinnamon and, raspberries with no feet rushing for tomorrow’s dawn. The night felt complete in itself. I walked three blocks before taking a right and then another four blocks till I reached my destination. I smiled at the guard at the gate who held the door open for me and walked into the restaurant, making my way to the centre; smiling at every known face I passed by. There were still two minutes left before the clock struck eight. I took off my trench and kept the umbrella aside before walking over the grand piano that sat majestically in the centre of the room under the spotlight with the stars sparkling across the walls and ceilings. I sat down and, took out sheets of music composed over marmalade and toast today morning, in checkered pyjamas. The first note had to be the middle C. I took a deep breath and began playing, letting my music flow along and in between the conversations and, laughter; drowning every clicking and clattering, creating a bubble of sharps and flats. I let my fingers become one with the keys as all that I heard and felt was the piano.
And then I heard the thin pitch of the perfect fifth sing along to my keys. She stood close to the spotlight yet far from it. She was close enough for the light to fall on her and still far enough to not cast any shadow. She was dressed in a lilac dress that ended at her knees. Her curls had streaks of auburn, that she’d huddled on her right shoulder as the rosewood violin sat on her left shoulder like an empress. She paused a moment to lock eyes with me; nodding oh, so lightly, giving me a smile faint enough to miss before she strung chords that blended with mine, each bringing out the beauty of the other while etching its own mark. The morning composition was left behind as we created sheets of music we were reading off each other’s eyes and wood. We were two strangers building a world of music in a night full of stars where the darkness didn’t scare; into a night so whole and full of possibilities, it didn’t need a dawn to hope for tomorrow.

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