After church, I shut myself into the tiny room under the stairs and locked the door. The bench pulled just far enough away for me to slip between it and the pedals, and I propped up my sheet music against the ancient ledge. Twenty minutes, I promised myself.
But pressing the keys filled the room with an atonal, reverberant jumble of sound that bounced wildly off the concrete floor and split into rainbows of audible color, and an hour melted away under my fingertips before I realized I'd missed my meeting.
1 comment:
Where did you find this magic, secret organ??
Better question, where's your church held?
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