“The piano had survived somehow, Ma’am…”, she walked towards it slowly. Memory seems to be the force of attraction. She removed the veil of the piano. The fire had left it unhurt. Her slender fingers open the cover of the keys before brushing them. A cheat touched her fingers; it had been tucked in the hinge of the cover. He had scribbled in his exquisite handwriting–can’t live without you…am coming to you…A smile passed over her lips. “Ma’am…”, the young attendant was going to say s’thing when she saw the tall stature was getting dissolved into air.
Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 03/07/2017