the boy with piano

One of our lovely readers, Abby, sent us a short piece of writing. This sweet story is actually a true event that happened to her a few weeks back. What a incredible thing to happen.

I flopped down on the couch, and let a sigh escape from my lips. I was at a fancy department store, and I was bored. My mom had brought me here because she was hunting for some new shoes to replace her current pair. I had wandered over to where the evening gowns were displayed, thinking to myself that it would be fun to pass the time by hunting for a prom dress. But no such luck. Everything available was fluffy, pink, and covered in sparkles. (Though I have nothing against sparkles and rosier hues, the whole glitter covered cotton candy look is not something that appeals to me.)

So there I was, sitting all alone in the middle of a store that simply oozed class and elegance. I mean, there was a grand piano not twenty feet away from me! I looked down at my simple sweater, jeans, and boots. I was way out of my league.

Uncomfortable, I sat up straight and looked around for something else to focus on. At that moment, three teenagers walked up, two boys and one girl. It looked like the younger boy (who appeared to be about 17,) was tagging along on his older brother’s date. The trio stopped in front of the glossy black piano, and the couple shoved the younger boy towards it. The boy glanced around to see if anyone was watching. His eyes landed on me, but he quickly looked away and took a seat at the piano bench.

He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, and took a deep breath. Stroking the keys softly, he gently coaxed the first few notes of Adele’s “One and Only” from the instrument. It sounded soft and cautious – you could definitely tell he was nervous. His fingers faltered, and the music stopped abruptly. Blushing, he glanced up from the piano, and for one brief moment, our gazes held.

The older boy said something to him, and whatever spell had been cast was broken. He picked up where he had left off, his fingers flying. As the song progressed, he gained confidence, and the melody began to fill the air. I hummed along, enjoying my almost private concert.

Near the end of the song, my mom came to get me. By this time a small crowd had gathered, and people watched in awe as this very normal looking teenaged boy charmed a beautiful love song out of the piano. As the final gentle note ended, applause broke out. The boy seemed embarrassed by this, and stared at the piano keys, avoiding looking anyone in the eye. I pushed through the crowd, heading towards the exit. As I brushed by him, he looked up at me, a blush spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He half grinned at me, and I smiled back at him, feeling the color rush into my own face.

I stepped out into the cold March night, a light snow dusting my hair and eyelashes. As the doors swung shut, I heard the strains of “Turning Tables” echo throughout the department store. A smile danced on my lips, and I knew at that moment that I would never forget the boy with the piano.