TheSnowPiano

There is a house. White striped window ledges backed against sienna bricks blend into a nondescript road. Late blossoms fall onto the pavement. Autumn has arrived, sweeping peace and quiet through the street. A blissful community. Everything you see here is about to change. A girl picks up an ad for a used piano. Her fingers are itching for a chance to touch the exotic creature, the one that makes magic out of black and white. A zebra in disguise is only a telephone call away. She yearns to call it her own. And the story unfolds. There is a house. The first snow falls in soft layers along the road, dressing the bare blossom tree. Curtains