Right, this crappy drabble thing is the main reason while I'm going to quit waking up in the middle of the night and writing stories. Honestly, I don't know where the hell this came from, but it made me publish it, so I'm going to do so anyway. Enjoy? Or at least try not to kill me?
Long, thin fingers extende towards ivory keys. A hammer strikes a string, and the noise reveberates through the cavernous room. The hands draw back, but soon returrn, settling over the keyboard. Elegant fingers depress the keys, dancing across them, the notes singing as grey eyes close.
Harmonies and melodies echo through the room, the sounds rising and falling, mimicking the pianist's breathing as he pours his heart into his composition. So enthralled in his music is he, he fails to notice a female entering the room. A hand on his shoulder alerts him to her presence, but he makes her wait but his side until he finishes his improvized piece and the last notes fade into the ether.
"What do you call it?" The woman whispered, blue eyes wide as the observed the man before her.
"Ljubav," the Serbian replied softly.
...Review and tell me how bad it is?