His music began floating across the alleyway. It wasn’t his usual, melancholic cafe music, but something deeper, something nearly possesed. The notes were rich, yet terribly harsh and were falling into my ears at a rapid rate. I was in a trance.

I had been afraid. He seems so serious, a commitment kind of guy but now I no longer wanted to keep him at a distance, or treat him so rudely. I wanted to sit down with him and have a decent conversation. Get to know who Pierre really was other than an attractive, yet eccentric musical curiosity. I lit a cigarette, and took deep, choking drags from its burning core. I wanted to rewind everything and start it over right.

He wrote this for me. Its so sad, so tragic. Its almost as if the piano itself is crying. I can’t bear it. Dripping, I grab my robe and step out of the tub.

I grabbed my guitar and ran for the door, not caring that I’m next to naked as I make my way to his flat. I was going to make amends. Even if it meant risking indecent exposure.