Gemotions

The old piano sat in the corner of the music room, its keys yellowed with age. Michael ran a hand over the polished wood, feeling the coolness beneath his fingertips. His sister, Jessica, had gone to make coffee. She probably needed it. This was harder on him than he thought.

He lifted the lid and gently pressed a key. A dull, slightly out-of-tune note sounded. He sat down on the piano bench, the worn fabric sinking beneath him. He remembered his grandmother playing, her fingers dancing across the keys, filling the room with music. He closed his eyes.

He tried to recall the melodies, the songs she loved. He could almost hear them, but they remained just out of reach, like a half-remembered dream. He placed his hands on the keys, attempting to play, but the notes sounded clumsy and flat. The silence that followed was deafening.