The piano sits in the corner of his dilapidated shack; he keeps it polished to perfection, tuned to a tee. It is nestled between his bed and the gas-powered stove that cooks his rice. His mother would be turning in her grave to know that he hadn't sold that old thing, but Chen had found that it was easier to sell people the prospect of a better future, a place playing professionally somewhere outside of this slum, than it was to sell the old piano.
They’ll be out flying kites, chasing other dreams today. Chen takes his seat on the piano stool, brushing out imaginary coat tails as he sits, cracks his knuckles and begins. Eric Satie’s Gymnopédie #1, the soft notes carried away on the will of the wind.
They played it at their wedding. The sun was so bright that day, smiling down upon them and saturating their world with colour, as if it had chased all of the clouds away just for them. She was so beautiful with her white dress, hibiscus in her hair, and smile so wide it split her face. They had their ceremony on the sands of Hawaii, slipped simple gold wedding bands across each other’s fingers, kissed to a chorus of cheers from friends and family.
Satie was their dance, when they held each other close as man and wife for the first time and slid across the slick polished floor. His arm was around her waist, her face tilted into the crook of his neck, each whispering sweet promises of the future to the other.
It was beautiful. Romantic. Perfect, but-
They'll think back on it with foggy minds, know that it was a picture-perfect day and that they would have felt happy, but won't be able to quite reclaim that feeling; the thought forever lingering just out of reach. Snatched away by the soft sound of ivories carried on the wind.
Gymnopédie is over. A smile teases at the corners of Chen’s lightly parted lips; they are all so wonderful, the memories swarming around his mind like glowing fireflies, filling his chest with that warm fluttering of butterflies A first kiss, swimming naked in the moonlight, that new yet familiar smell of a new-born child. He curls up on his stiff wooden bed and feels the goose down and Egyptian cotton of his wedding suites – each and every one of them – hears the gentle voice of his wives, husbands, lovers.
It was the happiest day of their life and, seeing as Chen had none to call his own, now it was his.
Spoiler
Your story is about an instructor in a ghetto in China stealing time.
