Accismus

She played me a song on the piano in the band room- an old alternative rock song I’m sure she listened to on repeat in middle school like I did. I tried to look like I didn’t care much, that I was just listening to her messing around while thinking about a million other things- but I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her eyes darted around the piano, working out which notes to play next, and she smiled from under the black fabric covering her mouth when she was doing well. After the chorus, she stopped and looked over to me.

“What should I play…?” she asked, half addressed to me, and half racking her brain for more songs she knew.

“Hmm, how about…” before I could finish, she started playing another song by the same band. She sang along quietly, her voice was so bright and sweet. Man, thinking about her like this isn’t going to make getting over her any easier, isn’t it?