She knew she wanted to continue to feel his touch on the song, he could hear the melody in intense taste. He knew he wanted to continue to be inspired by her body, to make her skin the best of chords.
Lost in the sound that night, looking for her soul and the harmony contained within her body. Too much alcohol, too much tobacco, arms numb, his head cloudy, the air heavy and always that image in memory: her. He did not know how, one day, to be able to translate it to the sounds of the piano that stubbornly refused to play the song perfect.
He respected her inspiration, giving him only the space necessary to make him feel creative, however, she knew that he sought not only to find the piano keys, but the body that held him when he felt close to despair. There, he composed the most beautiful symphonies, the most complex improvisations. In itself, he became the conductor and she a mere instrument, an indispensable muse.
