i can hear it
The rain outside stained the pavement with a deep, brown color that seemed to affect all except for his chorus of notes. They didn't know why he played through the rain, the same resonation of keys that would stir the souls of anyone who would be listening. But he didn't play for them.
He would always look up, at the door, waiting for her. He played for her eyes that would dance with excitement everytime his hands touched the piano. He played for the warming of heart whenever he played their song, the same song he played now. He played, in hopes, no matter how small, that their sound would lead her heart back home to his. And with that hope held in his hands, he played.
He played until the night would haunt him no more, until the cold of the rain seeped into the crevices of his heart that would water even the smallest seeds of doubt. He finally looked down at his hands, closed his eyes, and stopped playing. The wind whispered.. she's not coming.
A silence filled the night air that was soon replaced with a steady drip-drop of rain. It was her, standing inside, her soul soaked with the outpour of rain.
It was so beautiful...I didn't want to interrupt your playing...
And she smiled.....because she knew that he'd always be playing.. even through the rain.