Needless to say the conversation was like walking on thin ice; or hold I say minefield in the middle of hot summer, because i was sweating professedly despite the bitingly chilly weather. Every dialogue I threw at her she deflected, and every jab I made at her defenses she blocked and repelled, as if she didn't want to be saved, almost.
As if she enjoyed dwelling in her misery. Not that I had any right to know her that deep inside... I saw her that night, just as a poor musician entertaining the gorgeous lady that she was, of noble birth and power and wealth equal to her status. What could I hope for? What WAS I hoping for?
I dunno what song I had played - I was stuck in my past, sucking me away, shackling me, confining me to the bottom part of the hourglass - where the sand sinks and stays there, where the passed time stays - in our memories, confined - loud whistles, loud claps, and call for my name - I was back, I climbed back to the top of te hourglass.
I sat dazed, even as the last note and the clap died away into the smoky atmosphere. I blinked a couple of times, trying to pull myself out of the flow of sand, threatening me to pull me back to the bottom. I tried desperately to drag myself out of the limbo of past and present, but to no avail. My lips reluctantly opened, letting the present access me, flowing into my mouth, circulating around my body - I wasn't breathing - was I hoping to bury myself in the sands of time, dwell in the boulevard of misery and bittersweet happiness? I felt confused. What was I hoping for?
"Thank you thank you... Hope that wasn't too heavy for beginning. Anybody who want a dance here is one for you"
I knotted my fingers together and stretched. They screamed in protest; they were stiff and resented me for not using them for so long. A short tune of jazz entertained my ears. When did I play that last? The memory continue to elude me. As if we were very close, only separated from my vision and my senses by a thin veil of time. It felt so close - only an arm's reach away - yet it did not show itself to me. Sighing, I started playing from the beginning. Uplifting melody rare to jazz started, and a fanfare by the rest of the band(who jumped up to the stage even as I started playing) brought some of the people off their chairs.
As the high from the music and a delicious mix of alcohol and smoke hit me I started to smile. My fingers only protested from lack of exercise but they still danced up and down the keyboard just the same. It felt good.... But higher you go the bigger the fall. Perhaps it was because of such elevated state I was in that I remembered-or was it the memories being cruel to me? The thin veil I started to forget ripped, the corrosive grips of my memories pulled me down again, back where I belong... The lights got brighter and brighter, the pleasant mixture of sound merging into one horrendous cacophony, my body repelled present again, jumping back into the sweet suffocating sludge of past. I was back.
