By Milou de Meij
The Steinway’s gleaming grimace pulls me forward for the very last time. They used to be the one I told all my secrets to: a tender brush of lips, sorrows buried with the family dog, rage over a second-place trophy.
We burned for so much, didn’t we?
I close my eyes as the lights dim, opening myself up to the hush of the hall. A distant brook slips through mossy green; a young man crosses his legs as he pens his prelude. I smile as the composer’s first note rings silver.
My hands caress the keys. Together, we release our wanting.
Hello Milou.
Absolutely stunning. A perfect flash fiction gem.
This is amazing!
Beautifully written!!! I sincerely can’t wait to read more of your words someday
Perfect story. Great choice of deails.
“Secrets buried with the family dog..” What are they? How many? This great story makes me want to know more. Well done.