His voice was distinct, that I knew. A few words from below and I knew that it was him. Finally, he had appeared after hours and hours of waiting. Words came out of my mouth to acknowledge his presence while trying to form a possibly cohesive conversation, which all came crashing down when I noticed something was off. Why was he around? He had injured himself apparently to the point he’d have to dismiss going to class.
I continued inquiring on his choices concerning college life, but maybe that was a way to distract both of us from the fact that I took his hand. It wasn’t what I expected; then again, he wasn’t what I expected to begin with. I found it strange that it was soft, but maybe, that’s how all piano hands are.