Find middle C, I told myself. I should be able to remember at least that.

My fingers can find their way through a C+ scale.

But I don’t remember how to do a D major or E minor scale. What were the sharps and flats? What about arpeggios?

I can’t believe that I used to think I was special. Maybe I was. But like my piano, any talents I may have had are now buried under a bunch of tech shit.

I saw those boxes towering on top of my piano. I saw my life, full of computers, and not the right kind of keyboards.

So I knocked down the tower and tried to find the piano and the music again. It was still there, as faded as it was. It was still there. I could still find a small piece of it.

I started to play Für Elise. I remember. My fingers remember. It felt like the most natural thing in my life.

The melancholy dissonance that emanated from the instrument was as a part of me as my voice or my face.

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