Chloe walked up the aisle of the auditorium. It was unusually vacant. Everyone was either in the lobby, or outside enjoying the sunny weather, which Portland saw so little of.
The stage was also empty, except for the piano and the risers. There were still some lights on that would probably be turned off in a few minutes. One of the lights was focused on the piano.
Chloe felt drawn to it. There was just something that attracted her to the instrument with its black polished exterior that glowed under the light.
She walked up the steps to the stage and seated herself on the bench in front of the piano. Placing her foot on the sustain pedal and her fingers in the correct position, she began to play.
The song she played was one of the first songs she had ever written. She had written it the summer she was ten years old. She remembered sitting in front of the upright piano she had at home and working out the melody, harmonies and rhythms, notating them neatly into her musical notebook.
Her fingers now automatically went to the correct keys because she had played it so much. Her foot knew exactly when to release the pedal, and exactly when to push it down again.
Music was so natural to her, almost like breathing. Sometimes, when she was at school, she would start singing to herself without even realizing it, and would have to be reminded by a teacher to be quiet.
She played the last notes of her piece and let them reverberate through the auditorium.
The sound of someone clapping brought her back to reality. She looked up and saw the professor she had met two weeks ago sitting in the front row with a big smile on his face.
"That was really good," he said.
Chloe smiled, "Thanks,"
"I've never heard that before, what's it called?" he asked.
"Beautiful Evening," Chloe replied.
"Good name,"
Chloe nodded and smiled, "Thanks," she said again.
The stage was also empty, except for the piano and the risers. There were still some lights on that would probably be turned off in a few minutes. One of the lights was focused on the piano.
Chloe felt drawn to it. There was just something that attracted her to the instrument with its black polished exterior that glowed under the light.
She walked up the steps to the stage and seated herself on the bench in front of the piano. Placing her foot on the sustain pedal and her fingers in the correct position, she began to play.
The song she played was one of the first songs she had ever written. She had written it the summer she was ten years old. She remembered sitting in front of the upright piano she had at home and working out the melody, harmonies and rhythms, notating them neatly into her musical notebook.
Her fingers now automatically went to the correct keys because she had played it so much. Her foot knew exactly when to release the pedal, and exactly when to push it down again.
Music was so natural to her, almost like breathing. Sometimes, when she was at school, she would start singing to herself without even realizing it, and would have to be reminded by a teacher to be quiet.
She played the last notes of her piece and let them reverberate through the auditorium.
The sound of someone clapping brought her back to reality. She looked up and saw the professor she had met two weeks ago sitting in the front row with a big smile on his face.
"That was really good," he said.
Chloe smiled, "Thanks,"
"I've never heard that before, what's it called?" he asked.
"Beautiful Evening," Chloe replied.
"Good name,"
Chloe nodded and smiled, "Thanks," she said again.