It seemed to start out normally enough. He would go and play with his school friends, doing normal things like playing in the sandbox or taking a turn on the old tire swing. He would laugh when he had fun, cry when he scraped his knee, and smile, most of the time. But it was always inevitable. His mother would always come to pick him up at exactly four o'clock. His friends would pester him, begging his mother to let him stay just a little longer. But no, he couldn't stay any longer. He had to go to piano practice.
Driving down the country road that led to the big, old house where he went for piano lessons, he would stare out of the window, stretching his neck out so he could see. He loved the drive down the lane, and he loved his music teacher. But most of all, he loved the piano.
After his mother had parked, he would rush up to the front door of the giant house, excitement dancing in his soft brown eyes. He would knock on the door, his tiny fist making a noise that sounded like rain falling. After his teacher had answered the door, he would run inside, pausing only to remove his jacket and shoes. Then he would eagerly jump up onto the piano bench, stretching his fingers out the way he had been taught in order to limber them up. Then he would begin his lesson.
As time went on, his love for the piano never ceased. But his friends gradually started to disappear. They became fewer and fewer, but he didn't start to notice until junior high. That's when he saw all of his old friends had deserted him, save one. Her name was Heart, and she was the only person that would stand beside him.
School became almost unbearable. He had to face jeering catcalls and scalding insults from his peers everyday. Even piano practice held no joy for him any longer; the music only reminded him of what set him apart from everyone else.
This is his story.
Okay, I know it's short, but I wanted to get it out there as soon as I could. Please review! Review and I'll give you all free plushies!