K570

:i:

The notes were clear enough. It was to a degree where the music critics packed and left the auditorium with their dark glances and mutterings of perfection. Renamed: hypocrites.

Then she packed and left herself, leaving the stage empty save the lights and the piano.

Then they turned off the lights and the piano was covered, pushed into the darkened corner near the wings. Velvet against velvet, both soft and both black. Then the door shuts, and the music disappears into the rafters. The birds outside unfurled their wings, as if they too, were leaving.

Perfection had never been embraced.

And neither has he.

:i:

A/N: Prompt: Mozart, from Sonata in B flat K570 Mvt. 2 & 3 from my recital. Probably TLC Minerva & Arty.