I played the piano for you.

I never got a chance to know your name. But I knew you were the young woman who lived in room 38B. A few doors down from me. I'm not sure what your major was, but I knew it was hard. I could tell you were busy and determined, but also very tired. I didn't know what I wanted to study or where I wanted to go in life, but you did.

I had no will to study during the day and insomnia at night, worried about my future. So I'd play in the common room. I know the first time was an accident. You rounded the corner into the hall and for the first time, noticed me. Your light curls were messy, you were as tired as I was. Seeming embarrassed, or perhaps worried you were intruding, you turned and padded away on bare feet, back to your room.

It happened many more times after that. I would sit and play at the piano. It seemed, after a while, like it coaxed you into the common room. You would pad in on bare feet, and quietly tuck yourself away in the corner, pretending to play on your phone. Knees drawn to your chest, leaning over onto the arm of the couch. You quietly dozed and I watched you, curiously. Your closed eyes were darkly rimmed from exhaustion, and I couldn't help but kind of wish I had that sort of drive in my life. After a few moment you stirred, and pretended to have been awake. We sat in silence as I played on the piano, pretending to not be aware of you. Finally you stood, sleepily, and returned to your dorm.

I sat at the piano, wondering about you. Remembering how I'd heard your crying behind the door some nights. How I'd seen you coming to the dorms with your bag and a stack of notes under your arm. You never seemed to speak to many people, but seemed genuinely friendly but perhaps a tad lonely.

I played many nights in the hope you'd return to sit with me. And most nights you did. We never broke the silence. And pretended to be unaware of each other.

You smiled at me as you disappeared that night and my heart leapt as I smiled back.

That was many, many years ago.

I still think of you. And I still return to play the piano some nights. The buildings are still here, everything is the same, but different. Dust huddles in most every corner. No one has walked these halls in many years. I wish I had taken the chance to speak with you. You died so suddenly. It wasn't your fault he was drinking and driving. But you paid the price for his ignorance. I later learned you were a med student, learning to be a doctor. You had great hopes, that he threw away.

So I still come to play for you and sometimes I feel you sit with me.