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The Piano

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I wonder if that piano will ever be played again? I wonder if fingers will ever tap those keys and a beautiful note will play? I wonder if anyone will take her place at that piano? I don’t think so. It’s still too sad. 
   It’s been a week and yet her death is still raw in my mind. Flashbacks of being told she would never come back again still play over and over in my mind, like a silent movie that is all too real. And now all that is left is the piano and the memories of her playing it. But maybe someone else should play it. Help us think about all the good things that we loved about her. But no one will. We’re all too scared.
   Maybe I will. Yes, I will. I will play her prized piano and think about all the times I heard notes form into a song as her fingers danced across the keys. I want to hear the piano again. I walk over to the piano and sit down. My fingers rest on the keys and then begin to play. I close my eyes and for a second, it’s like she’s playing the piano and not me. I finish the song and open my eyes. It feels nice to hear that song again. From her prized piano.




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