I would like to say that I spent hours each day playing around and creating masterpieces on the thing, but really it just sat there collecting various papers and loose articles that needed a temporary home. The keyboard itself was lacking some of the finer qualities you would expect from a musical instrument. For example, the 3 highest notes were not functioning, along with the lower black keys, which require you to press them extra hard to get a bit of sound.
As I walked towards the back of my tiny flat, I caught my reflection in a mirror on the wall. I can’t say why it always felt so strange to see myself, but I can think of many times my own reflection caused me to pause momentarily and reflect upon myself. It is probably a tribute to the etymology of the word itself and why the English language has so closely assimilated the meanings of these separate but reasonably similar ideas.
I have to admit I tried to shield Lucy from seeing the keyboard itself covered with sundry objects, for I wanted her to think of me as an aspiring musician, working my fingers to the bone at every chance I got. As I was in the midst of making some noise and shuffling different objects around, there was a knock at the door. Far be it from you to assume that I was the sort of person to have one visitor in my place, let alone two, the knock itself caused me to nearly lose my already unsteady footing and fall flat on my face.
To be continued…