by johannespunkt

I sat down at the piano with no plan in mind and sad things started pouring out of it. I tried to catch them, but I had to keep playing. The things fluttered and screeched like animals who know they are about to become extinct. My bookshelves vibrated like hesitant trigger fingers. And a song started to rise in my throat, like the sea, just as wordless. I wondered whether the sad things came from the piano or me, and then the song ended. Perched on my shoulder, one of the sad things tilted its head and stared at me.