Emo Boy

He played piano. He would play me songs before I went to bed. I can still remember them, every note, every pause. And I hate that. But others didn't.

I looked up at the building in front of me. It was still the way i remembered it, big and tall with ornate patterns carved into the bricks. It brought back fresh memories that I didn't want relive. I pushed them out of my head and walked to the front door

"Nick Caffery! It has been too long! How are you dear?" Someone greeted me, I recognised her face. It was Margret, she was my teacher from years ago.

"Uhm, I'm good thanks, how've you been Maggie?" She ushered me to the VIP lounge and made me a cup of milky tea, the way it always was. We spoke about school and my mom and then my Dad.

"Do you still remember him?"

"Sort of... I try not to though" I said bitterly. I was always touchy around this.

"Look you have to realise he didn't -"

"No no no, I don't want to talk about him...Maybe I should leave"

"Nick! Come on, you came here for a reason, why don't you play for me?" I looked at Maggie, her hair had gone grey and he face was wrinkled but her eyes still twinkled at the thought of me playing for her. I nodded and walked to the hall, I knew my way around this place better than any one. I used to come here with him, he'd play a song and I'd watch him. Then when he went to get tea or more music sheets I'd hop onto the piano and play. I'd copy his movements and the notes he played. One day he came back and watched me playing, he was shocked but proud,

"Wow son, I never knew you were that good! Can you play anything else?" At the age of 7 I was playing pieces that were composed for people who had been playing for years. He taught me tricks and different songs, it was the only good memories I had of him.

I sat down infront of the black grand piano, the keys were just as white as they were years ago. It took my breath away being here, sat infront of the piano were my father taught me, helped me. Loved me. I placed me shaking hands on the keys and pressed on them, I knew which ones were slightly out of tune still and which you had to press harder to make a sound. I began playing a song he taught me a little while before he left, it was soft and moved slowly. I played and played and didn't stop, playing meant I could forget eveyrthing I didn't like, I was in my world, doing what I wanted.

I finished the song and sighed. How could lead myself back here? This would only turn out badly, the way it always did. Maggie looked up at me, tears in her eyes,

"Nick...That was beautiful...You play just like-...You have to come back, you need to be here, music is your calling dear," She sat next to me on the wooden stool and smiled, "You can come here any time you want okay? I'll get you a key" I nodded at her. She got up and walked out. I felt better being in here; the smell of felt and wood polish was calming.