A Silent Symphony - A Short Story

Twenty Five

Twenty Five;

❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀❁❀

- one month later, February 14th, 8.00pm in Charlie's attic -

I looked at Josephine, who was sat on a rickety old chair beside the piano. She was still broken, even though her ex boyfriend had been excluded for trying to hit her. I had supported her the way she had supported me, and I was going to show her how thankful I was for becoming close to her and for all the moments we had spent together, as I tried my hardest to play the piano again.

Jospehine looked at me intently as I adjusted the sheet music again. I looked her right in the eyes and took a deep breath.

"Josephine's Song." I said. I hoped my words hadn't slurred terribly, but now it was behind me. As soon as the words had escaped my lips, Josephine had started beaming. I had probably said it correctly, or near enough at least. I took another deep breathing, placing my fingers above the keys.

I took another deep breath.

And another.

And another.

I then closed my eyes, opened them slowly and pressed my fingers onto the keys. I moved them swifty up and down the piano, hoping that I wasn't making any major mistakes.

I couldn't hear the notes, but I could feel the rhythm. Just because I couldn't hear it did not mean I couldn't appreciate it any less. Just playing this song made me feel like I was fourteen again and that it came naturally to me. This didn't come naturally, but one day, it would. All it would take was dedication and Josephine for me to get there.

My fingers felt as if sparks were flying from them as the keys seemed to welcome my touch once more, as if they had been actually waiting for me this whole time, as if it was destined for me to choose the path of music, despite my constant silence.

As I finished playing the final bar, I let out a deep breath. I looked over to Josephine who was smiling, tears falling down her cheeks. I saw her say something. I could read her lips.

"You wrote that for me?" She said.

"Yes." I replied.

And then we were kissing, accidently pressing random keys in the process.