The Sound of Dust
This piece was originally published by FlashFlood during National Flash Fiction Day. It’s been nominated for the Best of the Net Award for Fiction in 2022 [Edit from October 2022]. So double thanks!
“When I climb into our flat for the first time since we left, the first thing I do is check that the piano is still there. I sweep the stool with a handkerchief, open the music scores in my bag, and sit. At first, my fingers are stiff, my fingertips slip. With each stroke, they collect dust, plaster and cement. I tell myself it’s ok, and I keep playing.
I blame myself, not the dust, for the muffled sound. I blame my rigid fingers. Soon pigeons coo to my music cue, joining me as I play and I play so long the sun turns around the house and…”