Springtime - a Short Story

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Springtime
A short-story written by Sofie E*****
Word count: 1045

The nurse had placed her wheelchair in front of the window overlooking the garden. Winter was finally loosening its grip of the landscape and the pale sun was timidly peeking through the clouds, gently awakening the slumbering flowers. There was a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” she said, still facing the window.
A delightful shiver traced her elderly body as she heard it was he who had come to visit her. Their conversations were usually quite entertaining. He sat down in the armchair next to the window.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he smiled beamingly.
“Well, for those fortunate enough to be able to go out.“ She shrugged, and continued. “It gets awfully quiet in here, too quiet for my taste…”
“Oh, how I miss the sound of a finely tuned piano,” he sighed, “it was always my favourite instrument.”
“I played the piano when I was a young woman. That is, before the rheumatism distorted my hands.” He swiftly turned to her.
“You’ve never told me you were a pianist. Enlighten me, please.” She looked at him reluctantly.
“Please, tell me. Help me remember the sound of a piano,” he begged jokingly, making her laugh. She was in a good mood today, so she decided to give in to his request.
“I’ll see what I can remember. My memory isn’t what it used to be, and it must be about five decades since I last played. I was very young, and some even called me beautiful.” She chuckled lightly, but he answered with a stern expression and a gesture for her to continue. “A lot was different back then you know. Most of my time, when I wasn’t performing at concerts, I spent by the piano, composing new music.” He sighed deeply.

“I wish I could play like that, but my hands are too large and the keys too delicate. Though, I went to many concerts in my younger years, far too many. I was lucky I could blame it on my job, which is why I loved being a music critic. She smiled and nodded. “I had a favourite...
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