She walked into the room, the one that smelled of lavender. He played in that room only yesterday, yet the final notes still lingered in the room. When he played the piano, she was on his mind. He caressed the keys as though it was her neck or delicate arms that he loved to kiss after drinking wine. Each note played was a declaration of his love for her. She walked up to the piano and touched the keys that were still warm from his last performance. Just then, she felt his hand touch the back of her neck, his slender fingers barely brushing through her hair. She leaned into him and sighed as his lavender scented shirt enfolded her in a double lover's embrace. The faint sounds of Erik Satie now moved through the room, replacing his ghostlike fragments of music.
(model - Jean Marie, copyright 2014)