Piano Lesson

On the former Thursday, I traveled to my piano lesson, one of the most excruciating hours of the week. Usually I never take it to myself to practice, but this week I was filled with an inspiration; I was going to impress my piano teacher beyond reason. I entered the lesson, my countenance disheveled and dreary for I wanted her to think that I had not practiced. This way I could really knock her off her feet. She greeted my acquaintance pleasantly, "Hello Talia! How are you today?" "I am exceedingly well, thank you." My voice showed nonchalance and gave nothing away. I seated myself at her grand piano and bided my time as she conversed with my father. When she navigated her way to the piano she smiled, my cue to issue forth with my now, still unknown to her knowledge, virtuous playing.

Upon starting the piece at my accelerated speed, her eyebrows raised, and her eyes became narrow, tiny slits. I moved my fingers across the keys, each note as perfect as the last; a perfect string of pearls, beautiful and remarkably shaped. I heard no sound from my instructor, but I was so in tune, so focused, that my mind lost all noise, there was no turbulence, my spirit was at a complete quiescence. When I finished, silence enveloped the studio. I turned my gaze towards my teacher and found tears cascading down her silhouette. I swelled with pride, and she filled with happiness at my finally succeeding at capturing the essence of the piece, smiled from head to toe.