How like the fall

To be gone in a day

Just as the leaves had turned gold

I was drawn to the sound

That the wind carried down

From an open window pane

And oh, how like a song

Or a sad melody

To linger long after the end

And the harmony rings

With the promise of spring

On a Brooklyn street…

"Dienda" - Sting

Promise of Spring

The wind was picking up, sending the autumn leaves tumbling down the cobbled street, and Killian Jones flipped up the collar of his flimsy jacket. The chill in the air seemed to warn that winter was nearly here. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and continued on his way. Clothing donations at the orphanage were scarce, especially for a fifteen year old boy, so he highly doubted that a winter coat was in his future. Resigning himself to another cold and lonely night, he turned the all too familiar corner to make his way back to the orphanage.

"Very good, Emma… again please."

He's suddenly arrested by a hauntingly beautiful piano melody but played by someone who had known pain. His pain. The pain of loneliness and longing. His eyes searched for the source and they fell to a small little window with an awning above with the words "Ms. Blanchard's Music Shop" on it. He pressed his nose to the glass, looking in, and there she was. He watched her as her green eyes fluttered between the sheet music and the keys at her fingertips, seamlessly weaving the notes into a song. She was young, perhaps around his age, and her luminous blonde hair was swept behind her ears. She had the loveliest frown upon her pouty lips, obviously in deep contemplation about her piano lesson. Her teacher, Ms. Blanchard presumably, slowly circled around Emma as she played, nodding in sync with the notes, waiting for an incorrect note to come but it doesn't.

She's perfect.

"Great job, Emma. We'll pick this up next Thursday. I believe that your foster mom is here to pick you up."

He saw her sigh and she went to gather up her music books and that's when their eyes met. He would've ducked out of sight but something locked him there. Perhaps it was the sadness that pooled in her eyes and how they mirrored his own. But despite all of that, he saw something else.

Hope.

And in that moment, he saw her mouth turn up into a smile and he felt one creep across his face, like she also recognized a kindred spirit. Noticing her pupil's gaze, Ms. Blanchard glanced to the window and Killian quickly ducked out of sight, still grinning to himself before he took off to return back to the orphanage.

He'd be back next Thursday.