She raised her hand to knock on the hard oak door, but hesitated upon hearing the unmistakable melody of piano music. She listened, spellbound, as he wove the notes into a beautiful tapestry of sound. It was the voice of pearls falling into the ocean water, wind caressing the falling maple leaves, flame dancing from the tip of a candlestick, cherry blossoms frolicking around a small child and lovers dancing their inimitable tango, all the the same time. The blending of the notes, a product of his careless genius, resonated within her.
Her hand reached up and rested above her heart, feeling its discordant beating. Everything she ever wanted was inside that room: the boy, the sweet voice, the innate talent and everything else that words could not, would not describe. The small window on the door afforded her an unobstructed view of the magnificent pianist in his element. It was breathtaking.
As the harmony slowly drew to as close, she pulled on the door, hoping to open it soundlessly. The resulting creak made her flinch & he stood up abruptly, the piano bench almost falling and his head whipping around quickly to look for the source of the disturbance.
Slowly, she made her way to his side and reached out. Upon feeling his hands on her shoulders, holding her away at a safe distance, she smiled ruefully.
"It hurts when you push me away, you know."
With a resigned sigh, he sat back down on the chair and she arranged herself carefully on his lap, facing the other way. Her arms encircled his head, playing with his hair. He leaned closer to her, feeling her warmth. It was an idyllic moment, too perfect to last.
Remembering a half-forgotten memory of an illicit tryst, she moved her hands inside his shirt, tracing lazy circles. She was rewarded with a quick laugh and a slight shiver. "So you`re still ticklish there?", she laughed at him. He smirked and she didn`t have to see him to know that he did.
His fingers, which had been tapping out an experimental rhythm on the piano earlier, slowly slid inside her shirt, caressing her back to return the favor. As he languorously played around, seeking, she returned her hands to his hair.
A small cry of disbelief rose from her lips as he hit the exact spot that made her boneless with laughter. Between giggles, she wiggled, trying to get away. He laughed against her shoulder and she could feel the deep vibrations it caused. Then, mercifully, he ceased his minstrations, instead, opting to trace random letters on her skin.
The warmth of her skin seared his fingers.
The cool feeling of his hand on her back made her shiver.
Suddenly, he stopped and pushed her off. With an ungraceful snort, she quickly caught herself before she fell to the ground. She knew exactly why he had pushed her away, despite not wanting to embrace this reason.
With as much dignity as she could muster, she gathered the torn scraps of her pride and stood up. Her eyes looked up at his and flinched away from their indifferent depths. Then, without a word, she swept away, closing the door behind her.
One lone tear threatened to escape but she masterfully blinked it back. She knew right then and there, as she leaned back on the unyielding door, that that one golden afternoon was the last. With a lethargic smile, she stood up straight and cast a last look back inside the now-quiet room. In that fleeting moment, they had captured the calm and beauty of their lost affection ... but it was as it is called.
Lost.
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