The moonlight from outside shed its beams on a tattered lone book lying on the piano lid, like someone placed it there and forgot to pick it up. I may have a lot of sheet music, but I certainly know what I have and don’t have, and I don’t remember packing or even owning a book like that to begin with.

It looked rather harmless, so I played the first chord. The piece was actually much easier than it originally looked. The measures were filled with eighth notes, but it fit so well under my fingers, it was almost entrancing to play. The melody sung out and a soft piano accompaniment hovered over the bass notes. It sounded so angsty and full of intense sadness, like being drenched in the rain as your lover walked away for the final time. I loved the chord progressions, and my musicality had been piqued. But as I neared the final measures, the room began to glow and a bright orb of pearlescent blue hovered over the piano, growing larger and larger.

It had gone deathly quiet, but slowly the sounds of the city rushed into my ears, and the orb had diminished into nothingness. I stood up, my eyes readjusting to the lack of light. Rubbing them to spur the process on, I realized a boy stood in front of me.