Disclaimer: Peanuts and all related characters belong to Charles M. Schultz.
When Schroeder was just a baby, it was the color of the toy piano he'd taken a liking to so quickly. There was just something appealing about the body of the piano; how it sat in the middle of the floor, beckoning to him, begging him to play. The piano had always brought him happiness, and the color black reminded him of it.
When Schroeder was strong enough to carry his piano around, it was the color of his frustration. He felt it whenever he encountered someone who didn't appreciate Beethoven's greatness or when a certain girl leaned on his precious instrument. It was the color of her hair, and it annoyed him.
When Schroeder grew older and moved on from his toy piano to the big piano against the wall, it was the color of the keys that were no longer painted on. He missed the small black body of his own toy piano, but he loved the real sharp and flat keys, the ones he could actually press; the things his small piano didn't have.
When Schroeder began to play in recitals, it was the color of the shadows behind the curtains. It was the elegant rush he felt when he played onstage; the feeling that he was alone with the music.
When Schroeder was sad, it was the color of the empty space at the end of the piano. It was the color of the loneliness he felt. It was the color that reminded him of someone he missed.
When Schroeder was happy, it was the color of the glossy finish of his grand piano. It was the color of the notes he had written on his sheet music. It was the color of his satisfaction when the end of the piano was no longer empty.
When Schroeder was getting married, it was the color of the tuxedo he had rented. It was the color of his anxiousness. It was the color of all the worst-case scenarios he had imagined the night before.
When Schroeder was on his honeymoon, it was the color of the peace he felt. It was the color of the cold night sky. It was the color of his bride's hair, but it didn't annoy him now.
