It was a familiar piece, a duet I knew by heart and which required little effort on my part, just to play along to Mom's lead. My eyes soon strayed be...eath the keyboard to appreciate the narrow gap between Mom's legs which briefly widened whenever her foot was applied to one of the pedals. I thanked the stars that Mom was playing more energetically than usual, lifting her foot high off the pedal rather than slipping it on and off, probably because she was wearing high heels. This minor. He swung the door open. It always looked funny to him when she was actually dressed to be somewhere. It wasn’t that she didn’t look adorable in her knee length skirt and the lightweight sweater, but she was so much more at home in a ripped pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. He quickly backed up, letting her walk in. ‘How’d it go?’ She looked as though she’d been crying. He hated to see her cry. It tore him up somewhere between the top and bottom of his throat, made his lungs burn. His words. More

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