Piano’s And Daydreams

I learnt a new word recently; pluviophile. I found it really interesting because it means a person that finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days. Finding a sense of comfort and peacefulness and I really liked it because I related to it. Like the rain dropping violently on the roof of the school brings out a calmness in me and it seemed like such a perfect setting to sit on the balcony and read, but right now I don't know where I'm headed except that a soft melody has been playing since this morning and I intend to find out what it is. I walk down the deserted school hallways, my shabby book in one hand and my school bag held in the other. I stride down the long set of stairs, my ears growing louder with the noise that was once filled with silence until I finally reach… the music room?

I opened the dirty white-stained door as silently as possible, making my way to the teacher’s desk that is exactly opposite the large grand piano that sat at the other end of the classroom, evidently occupied with a girl flowing gently from side to side, as her hands make their way up and down the scale of black and white keys that fascinatingly create music.

I sit cross-legged on the cold, hard-wood table soaking in the melodic tempo beating through my entire body, pulsing through my veins and tapping against my bones. I reclined in a lying position letting myself acquiesce to my racing heartbeat, any noise I was making was drowned out by the beautiful music being played by this mystery girl with long, chestnut brown hair.

It still baffles me that a bunch of keys pressed together can form such pleasant sounds. Sounds that could fill hearts and spirits and bring chills to your skin. Hearing the soft rhythm, my body felt lighter as though the music was lifting me up and up to the sky, captivating my senses and drowning out the noise of the rain from outside. The delicate piece came to a close and all I could think about was nothing could possibly ruin this mome-

“Noah, wake up.”

A stubborn voice finds its way to my ears waking me from my dream. I open my eyes to see the figure of none other than Mr Feldstein’s piercing gaze staring straight at me, his tight-knit hair gelled to his scalp like a leech stuck on human skin. Behind him, the golden glow of the afternoon sun shines into my tiring eyes, as I sleep on the desk, my folded arms for a pillow.

“Yes?” I ask with a questioning look, as though sleeping in class is completely allowed.

“Class is over Mr Broaden you may leave now.” He says and proceeds to walk out of the classroom, leaving me to pack up my things and alone with my thoughts.

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