This excerpt is from my still-unnamed story.
Claire is a captive, and will be auctioned in three weeks. In the meantime, there’s a piano.
Josh slipped into the room and sat quietly. Clair played with her eyes half closed, she and the music sharing an intimacy that he found himself strangely jealous of. As she moved her hands up and down the piano her graceful swaying reminded him of gentle ocean swells. Each note rang clearly on the old piano; each triplet rocked gently on the wind of the song. 123 123 123 123… The notes were melancholy in their minor key, as though every tear she had ever cried was emerging from her fingertips.
As the last notes sank into the stark concrete walls and died, he asked her quietly what the name of it was.
She looked down at her hands, now motionless in her lap. “It’s called Nocturne in A Minor.” She named the composer, someone Josh hadn’t heard of.
“It’s so sad.”
“Yes, Sir. Kind of fitting, don’t you think?” she said softly, her eyes still on her hands.
There was silence.
“Claire – ” he broke off, not sure what to say.
She didn’t reply.
He stood up abruptly. “Thank you,” he said, and left, closing the door behind him.