Status: Being rewritten in 3rd person
Dying Symphonies.
And his was a dying breed.
We’ll take this story a note at a time, like his bony fingers on the ivory keys.
She had it all together, her future planned, her kids named. It was all worked out perfectly to suit all of her needs and dreams.
He had another idea in mind.
She was prepared for simplicity. She was prepared to hide away in a small suburb and believe that she was happy. She was prepared for ignorant bliss.
She definitely wasn’t prepared for Robert Grey.
He lingered painfully long at all the wrong times, and chose to leave too quickly in other’s. Time and Robert never had really agreed. He claimed to never have enough, and time had had plenty enough of Robert.
The first day she let him into her home was when it all really began. His knocking that day had interrupted a pretty promising writing session and since their conversations had become rather long, she didn’t feel like standing in the doorway and letting her inspiration slip away from her. It was a simple idea, and a smart one at that. Really, it was the only plausible one, but wrong nonetheless.
She led him to the quaint kitchen where a warm pot of tea and a shiny acoustic begged for both to let their guard down. With fragile blue china and two sets of skeletal fingers they dug into each other’s chest and burrowed for warmth and protection. But what neither knew was safety was nowhere near what they were going to find.
She sat, strumming strings slowly as his sweet voice rambled about something unimportant. The boy was tall for eighteen and his knees awkwardly brushed the bottom of the small table, it was uncomfortable and irritating as his nerves got the better of him. They seemed to be bouncing to a soft melody that only he could hear.
In the middle of a simple, yet pleasing conversation Robert announced his need to leave. This left the girl confused and slightly hurt. He slipped out of his chair and shuffled out the door. No goodbye, no thank you, just an interruption and an “Enjoy the weather.”
As if she was even capable of something like that at this point.
He never told her where he went that day, or any of the other days he left with little notice and no thank you. Robert wasn’t the type to thank anyone for anything less than brilliance. Only talent mattered in his mind; talent and dedication.
Of both Robert was nothing below a master.
Courage came only from
his symphonies.
A decorative smile
to fade out.
She had it all together, her future planned, her kids named. It was all worked out perfectly to suit all of her needs and dreams.
He had another idea in mind.
She was prepared for simplicity. She was prepared to hide away in a small suburb and believe that she was happy. She was prepared for ignorant bliss.
She definitely wasn’t prepared for Robert Grey.
He lingered painfully long at all the wrong times, and chose to leave too quickly in other’s. Time and Robert never had really agreed. He claimed to never have enough, and time had had plenty enough of Robert.
The first day she let him into her home was when it all really began. His knocking that day had interrupted a pretty promising writing session and since their conversations had become rather long, she didn’t feel like standing in the doorway and letting her inspiration slip away from her. It was a simple idea, and a smart one at that. Really, it was the only plausible one, but wrong nonetheless.
She led him to the quaint kitchen where a warm pot of tea and a shiny acoustic begged for both to let their guard down. With fragile blue china and two sets of skeletal fingers they dug into each other’s chest and burrowed for warmth and protection. But what neither knew was safety was nowhere near what they were going to find.
She sat, strumming strings slowly as his sweet voice rambled about something unimportant. The boy was tall for eighteen and his knees awkwardly brushed the bottom of the small table, it was uncomfortable and irritating as his nerves got the better of him. They seemed to be bouncing to a soft melody that only he could hear.
In the middle of a simple, yet pleasing conversation Robert announced his need to leave. This left the girl confused and slightly hurt. He slipped out of his chair and shuffled out the door. No goodbye, no thank you, just an interruption and an “Enjoy the weather.”
As if she was even capable of something like that at this point.
He never told her where he went that day, or any of the other days he left with little notice and no thank you. Robert wasn’t the type to thank anyone for anything less than brilliance. Only talent mattered in his mind; talent and dedication.
Of both Robert was nothing below a master.
Courage came only from
his symphonies.
A decorative smile
to fade out.