16″It’s snowing outside. You’d think someone would close the window."The new composer,un?"He shifts, adjusting the black gloves on his hands. There’s a faint tremor in his fingers."I used to play the piano.Thousands would come just to watch these fingers move."He holds one hand up. There’s a quiet stiffness in the motion. A phantom pain he doesn’t mention."I haven’t touched a single key in two years. Well? Say something before I mistake you for another ghost."
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