The air around me felt safe for the first time in many months. It was filled with the warm buzz of voices, the soft rhythmic heartbeat of a guitar, the smell of fresh apple cider and homemade cookies that had just been taken out of the oven. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the energy of the small café. There were people of every nation together, dancing on the old carpet laying across the dusty hardwood. I pushed past them as my eyes fell on the band, strumming their instruments with their fingers. I relished in the touch of the cool bench beneath me, as my fingers fondled the ivory keys. The guitarists stopped their strumming and the drummer quieted his snare as the band looked over at me. There was no piece of paper in front of me, but I knew what to do. I took another deep breath, filling my lungs with the smells of apples and chocolate-chip cookies as I rested my fingertips on the smooth keys. I pushed my wire frames up the bridge of my nose while all of the eyes in the small room gazed at me expectantly. I smiled at them all and began to play.
I could feel the energy building up in my body, through my fingers and out of the piano. It was almost as if I could see the soundwaves floating above my head, joining the people in their dance. I felt it in my own heartbeat, pushing me forward. This was where I was meant to be. A man made his way through the crowd towards me. He held too glasses of cider in his hands and smiled at me when I saw him. He strolled over to me, putting one down with a clink on the lid of the piano. Realizing that I wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon, he took a gulp out of his glass before putting his next to mine. He picked up an abandoned guitar, and, putting the strap over his shoulder, joined me in my song. He grinned at me as I laughed to myself. I’d never met him before, but somehow he felt like an old friend. He hadn’t judged me when he’d seen my light eyes and blond hair. It felt refreshing.
But suddenly the sky was beginning to grow dark, and it was time for everyone to return to where they had come from, back to families, to their jobs, to the worries of their everyday lives. I sat alone on the piano bench, enjoying my last glass of apple cider as the man, my friend, put the guitars away and into their proper cases. I tapped the empty side of the long bench holding out another glass of cider towards him. He sat down beside me, and we sipped on cider and laughed into the late hours of the evening together. I hoped this night would never end.