The alarm went off with a piercing buzz. Christine abruptly awoke and glanced over at the black clock beside her. She threw her arm over and turned it off. She let out a moan, stretched and sat up. She let out a great sigh. Today was the day she would sing for Erik. Her chest began to hurt once more and she grabbed at it. She than stood timidly and walked over to a box labeled: BEDROOM CLOTHES. She quickly opened the box and pulled out a slim, white t-shirt and jeans. She hurriedly put them on and walked downstairs.

She glanced at the clock again. It read 12:30. Why had she slept so late? She danced over to the pantry and pulled out a pop tart. She opened the package and began to munch on the strawberry flavored pastry.

What would she sing for him? She thought to herself. What if she isn't good enough? What if he laughs? She began to feel sick, her stomach queasy. She set down the pastry and walked over to a mirror that leaned, alone, on the far wall. She fixed her hair and straightened up her clothes. She grabbed her stomach and collapsed to the floor. She sat, refusing to give in to the pain.

After a few moments, she gathered herself and stood. She ran upstairs and brushed her teeth than slowly walked back downstairs. She knew she would have to go over to his house. She glanced out the window. Why had she kept dreaming about him? Why is she having all these forbidden dreams? She shook the thought from her head and walked out the door. She walked down the flower-lined sidewalk and out into the street.

What was she doing? Surely Raoul wouldn't approve. Was this cheating? Was this unfaithful? No, certainly not. She was not having an affair. She was just singing for her neighbor, her friend. She walked over to his yard and up his sidewalk. She stopped at the door, stopped her hand in its tracks. She stood, hand almost to the door, than she released her hand and knocked.

The dark, mahogany door swung open and revealed Erik. He was wearing dark, red, silk pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt.

"Hi. Did I come too early?" She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Erik scratched his head and replied,

"Certainly not. Come in." He gestured for her to enter. Now, his body was becoming numb. Just the sight of her elegant movement sent his body on a rollercoaster ride.

Christine glanced around at he velvet drapes and dark walls. She timidly stood in the middle of the room.

"I will go change. Feel free to sit down. I will be only a minute." Erik escaped into his room. Away from this woman. This woman who caused him so much pain, so much happiness.

Christine walked slowly over to the piano, the same piano she saw in her dream. What did this mean? She thought to herself. She traced the keys with her frail finger. The sweet music she heard in her dream, was it real? Would it happen? She knew she would not be able to control herself any longer. Her dreams would only get worse. Why did she dream about him? She barely knew him.

"Okay, ready?" she abruptly turned and saw Erik standing, buttoning up his shirt in the doorway. She glanced past him and into the room behind him. It was filled with paintings, drawings, and scores were scattered throughout the room.

"Yes. Please, forgive me. I haven't sung in a long time." Erik smiled and walked over to the piano. He sat down and looked up at her.

"What song would you like to start with?" She fidgeted around, than shrugged.

"Well, I did write this song. Right after-well, I think it is good. Maybe-"Her words became knotted. She looked down at Erik, and into his eyes. He looked back than broke the gaze and returned his stare at the keys.

"Well, let me hear it. I will join in with the piano when I know the beat." Christine released her hands to her side and opened her mouth.

"Wishing you were somehow here again.

Wishing you were somehow near.

Dreaming of you,

Helped me to do,

All that I dreamed I could.'

Erik's heart leaped out of his chest. He grabbed his breast, than blinked away the pain. Was this his angel? Was she meant to sing for him? It seemed like this was the one thing missing from his life. This woman was the one piece missing from the puzzle. He released his hands to the keys and imitated the song. Christine continued and looked down at him.

His head was swaying to and fro with the beat, his eyes were closed and his fingers were dancing across the keys. She stared at his figure, his muscular arms, and his arched back. The way he hunched over his piano, completely absorbed in the music. Why did she long to touch him? Hug him? Kiss him?