The Sound Of A Piano At Dusk

I met William Abbot when I was five years old. We were a bit odd, and actually still are. Other kids didn’t like us very much. and did their best to avoid us. But we needed no one else. And stayed friends all through high school.

However, there was a month when he refused to speak to me. He completely disappeared from my life. I can’t remember the reason why. Probably something trivial and insignificant, I’m assuming, considering I don’t recall what the content of our falling-out was. Actually, I don’t remember much of our twelfth grade year. It’s a huge struggle to try to, so I don’t bother. Besides, that was the past. The past doesn’t matter.

We’re still the best of friends. We share an apartment with this guy named Alex. I don’t remember how we met Alex, but we’ve known him about 3 years. It was actually a few weeks after Willa started talking to me again that Alex came into our lives.

Alex doesn’t really leave his bed. He doesn’t speak often and when he does, it’s usually to himself, and he rarely acknowledges my existence. I think he hates Willa, because he never pays any attention to him at all. Not once has Alex ever said a word to him or even looked him in the eye. It’s extremely weird to me, but I’ve never questioned him about it. I just let him do his thing and leave it at that. I’m not one to pester people about their habits.

Willa is a musician. I’ve never heard anyone play the piano like he does. He pours his soul into his music, he has so much passion for it.

You wouldn’t take him for someone that plays so well considering his almost-insane, Tim Burton-esque appearance. He’s tall and skinny with wild, curly, dark brown, hair that falls just past his shoulders. I’m guessing if you straightened it, it’d be way down his back. He looks more like a bum than a musician.

When he leaves for gigs or practice with his band, I get this terrible feeling in my chest like he’s never going to come back. When he does comes back, he always looks different. I think it’s some sort of practical joke he plays on me, because he always convinces me that he hasn’t changed at all. And maybe he hasn’t.

After-all, who would change their appearance just for the sake of messing with their best friend? Maybe some would, but Willa isn’t the type. He’s a very reserved, grounded, and intelligent individual and the only humour he partakes in is sarcasm. Practical jokes and pranks don’t amuse him.

Willa’s ever-changing appearance is one of the many things in my life that doesn’t make sense. I choose to ignore those things and merely focus on the things that make me happy. Like for example, movies. I’ve always watched a ridiculous amount of movies. I love movies because they help me escape reality.

My reality has never been a good place. I’ve never been smart enough, strong enough, creative enough. I’m just notgoodenough. But when I’m watching a movie no one is better or worse than me. I become equal with the world and don’t feel worthless.

I spent my whole childhood in front of the tv or at the movie theatre, desperate to see every movie there was to see. My parents endorsed this obsession because it meant they didn’t have to put up with me. Willa and I really bonded over movies, even if his true passion has always been music. He’d always go to the cinema with me so I wouldn’t be alone, and was always willing to have movie marathons. He understood my love for it, and he is the only one that has, and probably, ever will. Everyone else just sees it as a waste of precious time that could be spent doing something “productive.”

Willa has always told me I should be in the movie industry instead of obsessing over it. Believe me, I’ve thought about it. I’ve dreamed and obsessed over the idea, but such a career option has never been in the cards for me.