Collision.

Perched upon the familiar wooden bench in the abandoned guest room was a plastic abused binder of ripped sheet music. Beside it, was I with my legs uncrossed and one foot slightly depressing the sustain pedal of the black and white piano in front of me. Melodies and harmonies inundated the room, painting notes upon the white walls. My mind was empty of all negativity as I played. No worries, no anger. Just the numbness of now.

“Arrow?”

I jumped up and my eyes flew to the doorway where my mother stood, still in her usual yellow Sunday dress.

“Yes?” I questioned, slightly irritated now.

“Fix your dress. We have guests,” she smiled, then began to descend down the stairs. I absolutely had no interest in these guests. Guests meant strangers who took up vacancy at our house for days. That also meant they would most likely be rubbing their unkempt fingers all over the piano keys. I shook my head and re-adjusted my sky blue dress then went down to the main room. Almost immediately, I could hear the chatter and laughter of several strangers.

“Arrow!” I heard my mother call, her voice excited and loud. Stumbling, I made my way to the source of the voices.

Then I saw him.