Dystopian

As he slid the carriage back into place, a loud snort escaped from his roommate. He hesitated. Silence – broken at an instant by the smash of glass and a muffled curse from their rowdy neighbor. ‘I know how you feel,’ said Cas under his breath.

He glowered at the words. They were the wrong words. Hollow. Plain. Meaningless. He gingerly cranked out the page, turned it over, and replaced it. He placed his fingers on the keyboard and stared at the cliché. He removed his hands and placed them behind his head. With a yawn, he proclaimed, ‘This has to work.’

As if in answer a sound dropped from the room above. The musical note seesawed down to him like a blossom falling from a tree. Another note followed. As if in answer to his frustrated penitence, the silence drew back slightly. Penetrating the gloom, more musical notes fell from the room above. Piano keys were struck with the pitter-patter of rain, stirring, and beautiful. Like a strong drink, this put courage in our writer’s belly. A torrent of sound was let loose as the piano player showered mana onto him. Music, glorious and rousing.

Fingers rushed to find the keys in the dark.

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