The warm room on the top floor of the building came as a comfort to those who had come from outside's weather. Rain was thundering down, and streaks of lightning were followed by loud claps of thunder. The wind slapped the sodden pedestrians mercilessly in the face and even the thickest layers of clothing couldn't warm their goose-pimpled skin. The only lights were headlights and street-lamps, but the light didn't warm the atmosphere – instead they gave off a forced radiance that was neither pretty nor comforting. The room on the top floor was different, though. It was carpeted with royal red and a fire was lit in the fireplace. Its radiation came as relaxing and relieving, rather than unnatural and affected. In the corner of the room stood a beautiful, black, baby-grand piano and on its stand lay scores of hand-written music, composed by the owner of the room. At the back of the room there was a dark wooden desk with an unfinished composition and several pencils on it. A dark blue case containing a violin was resting open on the surface, as well as a half-finished mug of coffee which was gradually getting cold as it lay abandoned by its drinker.
The owner of the room was a man called James Wilson. A relatively tall man with light brown hair, he was a cheerful but serious man with a passion for music. Many thought he was rather odd, for he spent hours on end sitting at the piano fingering the keys and scribbling on the scores notes that would eventually become a beautiful, uplifting melody. People called him antisocial and most had stopped bothering with him, for he never seemed had time to bother with anyone else. This wasn't true, however, for James Wilson was also a teacher. For those who thought he wasn't bothered, well, he was bothered, especially with his students. He taught many instruments: piano, violin, flute, oboe, saxophone, harp, horn and drums. He also gave singing lessons. It was James Wilson's passion to pass on the gift of music to his students, for music is one of the many wonders of the world. One couldn't live without music.
At this present moment, James Wilson was one of the pedestrians who was hurrying down the street in the terrible weather. Armed with a coat and an umbrella, he battled through the wind and rain, making his way to the house of a female flautist, to give a private lesson at her home. The female's name was Lita Kino, and she was on grade seven, having passed all of her previous grades with distinction. Lita Kino was one of James's favourite students and he thought it was a pleasure to teach her. And so he struggled through the bad weather at seven o'clock in the evening, looking forward to the comforts of Lita's home, and maybe drinks if she offered him one.
Finally he arrived and was greeted by the tall brunette who was looking anxiously at him, and asking if he was okay after his long conflict with the weather. James replied 'yes' and followed Lita into the living room. It was a nice room, warm, with green sofas set around a flat screen television. The carpet was turquoise and the sitting area had a blue rug on it, bordered with green zigzag patterns. The back wall was lined with shelves, on which lay a stack of books, several photographs and a collection of different green-coloured crystals in all sorts of shapes. There was even one of Father Christmas which always managed to bring a smile to James's face.
The brunette entered with her flute and her music. As James instructed her to play, she lifted the beautiful instrument and sent out her sweet message in the form of a melody. James had decided long ago that this girl was a natural at the flute, and could go on to be great one day. Perhaps she'd become like him, living alone and spending long hours in front of the piano. Or maybe she'd end up being famous, playing in the Royal Albert Hall and such places, and even travelling around the world. At any rate, music would be a very important part of Lita's future and he was sure of it. He smiled as she ended her piece with a delicate trill and rounded off the last note with a grace he so rarely saw in his students.
And yet, Lita still played with many flaws, for no matter how natural one is at something, there is always more to learn. James himself was still learning even though many said that he couldn't possibly any better. Music was an art to be greatly appreciated, and only those who appreciated it learned. For this reason, James did not feel bad when he gave constructive criticism to Lita as well as praise. She accepted the criticism graciously and raised her flute to begin to play again, eradicating many of the mistakes she'd made before. She smiled when she finished, and James returned it, unable to help but think that her smile was beautiful. She would have a great love-life, he thought, for anyone as pretty as her would have boys at her feet. He shook his head to clear it: his student's love-life was not important at the moment. He turned back to the lesson.
Lita had now started to play a beautiful aria. As she played, a debate began in James's mind. He had been looking for someone to do duet work with, for a duet was one of his latest compositions. Lita had been one of his first options when it came to doing duets, but he wondered if that would hinder her progress with her grades. He did so badly want her to keep getting distinctions, and then go on to take even bigger exams, teaching exams and the like. He wondered if she wasn't working hard enough already, and whether she actually needed to be burdened with even more. For this reason, he had kept the duet to himself and had never played any part of it to anyone. He was the only person in the word who knew how it sounded.
Forty minutes passed and the lesson ended. Lita did indeed invite James to stay for drinks and he accepted gladly: he did not feel like facing the weather any time soon. As they sat down, Lita brought through some coffee and some home-made biscuits, offering one to James before taking one herself. As James studied the girl, he noted that she didn't look the least bit tired, but rather exhilarated from her latest brush with music. It was just then that he decided that when it came to music, no amount of work would overload her, but would only enlighten her more. Upon this realization, he finally proposed about the duet, a feat which turned out to be a good one for Lita accepted almost instantly. James said that he would bring the necessary sheets of music next lesson and the matter closed.
Finally, the coffee cups emptied and the stash of biscuits disappeared. James stood up and gathered his things together, bidding Lita goodbye and making a final promise to bring the sheets of music for the duet next week. He urged her to keep practising, said goodbye again ten headed out of the house and into the treacherous weather. He didn't feel so bad now, however, for the very thought of Lita doing the duet with him came as a comfort. He couldn't wait to get back to his apartment just so that he could pick up his flute and practise his part, even though he already knew it so well. It was his excitement at getting home that kept his legs working towards his apartment building. At last he arrived back home and momentarily crashed onto the sofa, before sitting up and taking his flute out of its black leather case and preparing it. Going over to the baby-grand piano, he sat on its stool and tuned the flute. Then he played one of the duet's parts from memory, feeling enlightened and joyful.
When the cuckoo-bird chirped ten o'clock James finally put away the flute, upon the realization that there were many things he had not done yet. He had a quick shower then prepared dinner, knowing that he wasn't nearly half as good at cooking as Lita. He ate his food, slowly for that matter, and stumbled into bed as the cuckoo-bird chirped eleven.