2 Bitter 4 Words

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LilyRose

on March 12, 2007

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The house was for sale; it had been empty for years. The piano was in an abandoned outbuilding that was long and narrow and had a real proscenium stage at one end. The piano was in what would have been the backstage area.

I did not hear the faint, ghostly echoes of songs once played in joy and sorrow. The late afternoon sunlight slanted winter-long into the room, and the dust lay still and silent. There were no echoes here. There was only dust.

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