Arpeggio.

Arpeggio.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Ah’ Julie! Come in.’

Quick peck on the cheek.

The trail led to the kitchen, strong coffee.

Into the yard, smoking roll ups, small talk.

The lounge, she sat on the piano stool.

‘I quit my job, life’s a mess.’ She said. Turned and finger thrashed the keys.

I cringed, the life story, the piano sound.

We talked it through, her life.

I showed her middle C.

We talked patterns, the work life balance.

She played on.

Arpeggio.

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