Da Capo (English: dɑː ˈkɑːpoʊ/, Italian: da (k)ˈkaːpo) -  An Italian musical term, meaning 'from the beginning'. 

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Her eyes twitched open at the streak of morning sunlight that slid through the curtains. The songbirds chirped loudly, but she felt as if she could still hear the rich piano that drew curlicues in the air. 

Nocturne Op 9, No.2 by Chopin. 

The famous piece played last night. 

She recognised the melody, but somehow, as soon as the pianist danced through the keys, she felt herself drifting into unconsciousness, with a smile plastered on. 

It was the third consecutive day that she had a good night’s sleep. She stepped on the streets with a beam on her face as the gentle, early Spring breeze soothed her skin. With her heels scraping against the pavement, she hummed along with the tweeting songbirds.  

Naeun pushed open the gallery door with a cheerful smile on her face. Her coworkers nodded in greetings as she walked in. 

As soon as she sat on her desk, her coworker and close friend Hayoung walked in with a cup of coffee. “Good morning, unnie.”

Naeun replied her energetically. “Morning, Hayoung!” Her lips widened into a bright smile. 

“Omo! Unnie, you’re so energised today! What happened? I haven’t seen you like this for so long!”

“I’m getting better sleep these days.” 

“Really?! You got your insomnia cured? How did you do that?” 

“Actually…” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve been listening to piano music.” 

“Piano music? On Youtube?” Hayoung wondered curiously. 

Naeun shook her head. “No, my neighbour has been playing it for the past few days. Its because of the neighbour, that’s why I got my insomnia cured.” 

“Oh wow!” Hayoung exclaimed. Her friend has been struggling with insomnia for a while, and she is sure that neighbour must’ve been a present for her. “Unnie, did you find out who the neighbour is?” 

Naeun shook her head again. “No…”

From the day the pianist cured her insomnia, she paid attention to her neighbours. There were women in blouses and skirts, men in suits and ties, parents with their young children. Everytime her elevator stopped on the floors below, she wondered if that woman, or that man played the piano, but none of them seem to be piano players, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask. 

Every night, she anticipated the sweet melody to swim through the air. Sometimes, it appears again, on consecutive nights. Sometimes, she hears it after a few days or a week or two. Naeun sighed in disappointment. 

When will she meet the pianist? 

When can she see the pianist, and sincerely thank that person?

………..

The arrival of April brought along the pink blossoms that fluttered past the streets. In the meantime, her black circles started to vanish, and her smile widened almost every morning. 

Naeun still perked up her ears occasionally for the piano. When it comes, her lips curl up in an excited smile. When it doesn’t, she sighs and collapses on her bed, forcing herself to go to sleep. 

She still wondered who was behind the sweet, fluttering melodies, but she stopped searching for the pianist. From weeks of disappointment, she figured that the pianist must be nocturnal, or that person must have irregular working hours, as she never met anyone new on the elevator. 

Like every morning, she stepped into the elevator on the 20th floor with a tailored-cerulean suit and black heels. As she stared at the floor buttons, the lift declined, then came to a halt. 

Doors opened. 

Thinking that she arrived at the ground floor, she walked out instinctively, then bumped into a man walking into the elevator. 

The man let out a small gasp. 

She stepped back quickly, and lifted her head up. 

18th floor. 

She cursed herself inwardly. Son Naeun, you babo. 

Her sight drifted to the man she bumped into. “Sorry.” She said apologetically. The man gave her a light smile. “No worrie