Gemotions

The dusty, neglected piano in Mr. Henderson’s living room sat silent, its keys gathering dust. He hadn't touched it since his wife passed away. The music within him, which had once flowed so freely, had dried up. He missed her.

The doorbell rang. It was a delivery. A basket filled with fresh baked goods arrived, accompanied by a note. “Remember that terrible piece I used to torture you with? This is just a little thank you for your patience.” It was from Paul, a boy who had driven him up the wall with his poor piano skills.

He ran his hand through his greying hair. He picked up one of the cookies. A sweet flavor filled his mouth. He thought about the student and his music. Perhaps he would play again.