Theories of Unbalanced Forces and Black Holes

part one | theory three

part one | The Flightless Lark and The Arcane Clown

theory three | tom, tom, the piper's son

She wore no slippers. The coldness of the floor, much like ice, burned on the soles of her feet, but as each second passed, the frigidity of the tiles against her skin dissipated. She dragged her IV, its squeaking wheels echoing in the hallway. It sounded like pure silence in Alouette's ears when her eyes settled on Claude's back and her hand senses the warmth of his dragging her forward.

She was breaking the rules, something she had never even considered before. The only thing she had ever broken were her old toys. Her father would kill her for doing this. Escaping her room, on their way to an off-limits hands-off piano they were about to put their hands-on. No adrenaline coursed through her body though, she didn't actually feel like she was doing anything wrong. The white walls tainted with doors repeated and blurred in the corners of her eyes. Finally Claude stopped. Ahead stood an old black piano bathed in the sunlight filtering through the windows.

"This is literally a bad idea, Claude," Alouette said, but Claude walked to the piano, passing the red tape warning everyone to keep out!

"Give the girl some candy, she said my name," he replied running his hand over the wood and swiping dust from the surface. Then he lifted the cover and gazed at the black and white keys. They were dustier than the piano, clearly the piano lacked maintenance.

Claude pulled out the chair with one hand and sat, without even checking for dust mites or other dust creatures that might cling to his bottom. Fortunately, no dangerous dust creatures resided on the surface of the chair, Alouette noted as she inspected it.

"Come on, sit down!" Claude said cheerfully. His voice bounced off the walls, and he covered his mouth, eyes wide.

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

Her mind snagged on that statement, but her feet stepped closer to the piano. Was this where Alouette lost her good girl break-no-rules morality? She stooped and pulled her IV under the red tape, then sat on the chair. She had officially graduated from goody-two-shoes to #rebel.

"Okay," Alouette whispered. Claude was staring at the dusty keys. "What's wrong?"

For a moment longer he stared silently at the keys. "I just noticed that I only have one good hand to play with." Claude scratched his head and laughed.

"You just noticed?"

"If you noticed you should have told me!" Claude stretched the word 'me.'

"You were so excited, I thought you would figure something out."

Alouette raised her voice and stood, only to be shushed by Claude. Slowly, she sat.

"I was distracted," Claude whispered, "it wasn't my fault! When in doubt ask, right?"

"You dragged me into the hallway like a giddy schoolgirl! Boy...Giddy-school-girl-boy!" she whisper-shouted back.

"I can't play the piano with one hand!" Claude hissed.

Alouette considered marching back to her room, getting in bed, and sleeping, but seeing that her good girl virginity had just been shattered, there was no way she was going to leave without getting something from the experience. "You have two good feet?" she said.

"I'm not an eccentric."

Liar. You call trespassing in someone's hospital room for eight days without doing anything but pace around and sightseeing "not eccentric?"