The piano resonates its soft tune as she slowly moves her fingers from key to key. She had played this song so many times over the years that the intricate notes in the book were of second nature to her.

“Start slow, finish big.”

He once said to her. She laughed at his words, not believing them. He smiled at her. As her fingers stroked across the board, he put his own over hers and moved as she moved.

The cool night air crept in from the window of the bedroom. They laid on a king-sized bed, becoming one with the passion. On the bed side table stood a picture frame of them both. Their embrace in the photo unbinding; their smiles to be plastered there forever.

She moved her hands over the keys as he leaned down to her neck. The aroma of strawberries filled his nostrils as the music continued, intoxicating his every move. He put his hands on her shoulders and swayed from left to right with closed eyes.

The pan sizzled as the smell of bacon, eggs and toast simmered in the air. He sat patiently waiting to be served, a contented smile on his face. She fixed his plate first before hers. Two spots left on the table for both of them to fill. Empty plates set out that would soon become full, as would their stomachs.

Their lips touched. He sat on one end of the bench, she sat on the other. Her fingers still in place to play more notes. She savored the moment as if it were her last. They withdrew from their tight embrace and looked at each others’ eyes. They laughed. She returned to her notes.

More calls, less kisses. He no longer came home at a reasonable time. She laid there in bed alone, crying herself to sleep. When she awoke, he had already gone. For days at a time, she would not see him. When he was there, it was if he had never come in. He lingered in the spacious rooms, not giving her any notice.

She feels growth inside her. Everyday, it was getting larger and larger. She touches the growth and it touches back. He is not there to touch it with her.

He stood over her as she played, and nothing more. He was not home to hear her play anymore. The door remained untouched.

She moves her fingers gently tapping each key.

He stopped talking to her. He kept himself preoccupied with business matters. His cell-phone rang every night.

The tune had not slipped from the time she started. Her eyes grew heavy as it grew heavy.

She stood at the curb looking through the glass that separated her from him and her other self. Her other self sat up straight as she did, talked proper as she did and walked with every step full of happiness and confidence as she once did. He smiled broadly at her other self, caressing her shoulders with his hands.

Her fingers begin to tremble, never upsetting the music. Every new note still resounding perfectly as the last.

He kissed her other self on the lips. She could taste his lips on her own mouth just like her other self could. She could feel her hair being brushed back by his hand. She could feel his breath at the end of her ear.

The piano never tires of her repetition. Key after key is pressed at least once during her masterpiece.

He peered out the window and met her gaze. His eyes grew wide at the sight of her . Her other self looked out too. The other became stunned by her appearance. He got up abruptly, still looking out at her. How she wished she could be her other self with him right now. He continued to stand dumbfounded at her presence.

The heaviness in her eyes break loose as she nears the ending of her song.

He ran out for her, but she was gone.

The picture at the bed side table disappeared.

The pan did not sizzle.

Their lips did not touch.

The wind was still.

The tears are all over the keys. Her index finger touches the last key and lingers there.

“Start slow, finish big” he had said to her.

The last note remains in the air as she sits still and looks straight ahead.