Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I woke up the next morning in a vaguely familiar bed, with the glow of indirect sunlight on an eggshell white ceiling above me and the sound of a piano in my ears. It was pleasant and my hand stretched across the cool expanse of mattress beside me. A few high notes were tentatively played, then played again, like someone working out a melody.
Someone was working out a melody. I sat up suddenly with the vaguely dreadful feeling I was late for rehearsal…?
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