This is a very small piece of a bigger short story I wrote a few years ago. I stumbled across it again today, skimming through the entire thing, and my eyes caught this. Hope you enjoy. For some context, the main character had recently been struggling to find inspiration.

“Dancing over the white keys, my hands found tunes that my ears had never heard. Tunes that didn’t make sense or feel right, but every so often I’d find a set that would be clear. I wrote them down, then moved on. I wasn’t trying to find anything but rather just distract my mind and, it worked.

I cleared my throat, looking over my shoulders as if someone would be there to catch me at one of my most vulnerable moments. Josh was at work, and the apartment was empty. I started to play notes, humming along. Attempting to follow the keys, my hum came to a halt. My hands abruptly stopped and dropped to the top of my thighs. Clearing my throat again, I picked up my hands.

Hovered above the keys.

Made contact with my fingertips as gently as I could.

Pressed down and let my hand go with the flow.

My hum turned into a note and continued for a few more moments before words fell out. I shocked myself at the choice of words, but they were natural. Quickly, I stopped and grabbed a notepad and pencil. Scribbling the words down, I tried the process again. Over and over. More words which made sense. I even closed my eyes and found the keys on their own, smiling to myself as I repeated some phrases to see what they felt like dripping from my tongue. Were they smooth? Sharp? Were they me or were they someone else?”