#rhythmic freedom

Fingers rested poised on the ivory keys of the piano. Wrists were raised parallel to the instrument in graceful readiness. A bottom lip was bitten on. 

Mabel slowly drifted her left hand to the midsection, and her fingers pulsed--commencing music with a repetitious ring of four cords. 

The bottom lip was released, and a breath was exhaled. 

Deftly, the simplicity turned into improvised melodies. She used both hands now, and occasionally they crossed each other. As the song inched along, it metamorphosed, seamlessly, to Chopin Nocturne Op.9 No.1. She played with an avoidance of every meretricious ornament, and scarcely any additions with a reverence for the original piece, but at the same time her own interpretation of the sheet music cast a glow of color on the composition. All the intention of rhythmic freedom that Chopin intended was magnificent and emotional. When it became impetuous and energetic in her fortissimo, it was still without harshness and clumsiness. Like rain. As she crawled from the piano tones that are purer, mellower and stronger; her touch had not a balletic charm, but a gaiety of a girl her age. Now and then, the small pianist would take a contemplative pause to remember the piece, and the song would stop but then gradually start again. 

The Graves' Erard had an angelic sound, but she was afraid she had ruined it with the hesitations. The end of the song which finalized with a cord--a cord that resembled a butterfly with a broken wing--and she placed her hands over her face and her fingers pressed gently against her eyes. The nocturne was supposed to have concluded peacefully. Peacefully. 

She turned her head slightly to her papa sitting behind her, and smiled meekly at him. She had the beauty of an older woman knit into a face so young. Just shy of a fourteenth birthday, she had already been through so much. She remembered playing "Clair de Lune" for her mummy--whom Mabel called "Angel"--when she was alive. Where had time gone?

Mabel turned her head slowly toward the clock, and then folded her hands neatly on her lap.