The sunlight was too bright, casting a golden halo along the edges of his pupils.
Somewhere in the distant haze of memory, I remembered those same eyes and that same chorus of cicadas.
Suddenly, I wanted to cry.
I didn’t know why.
Spending too long in a hospital bed could make a person feel utterly detached from the world.
I didn’t fear death.
But being trapped within these four walls–now that was unbearable.
So, the nurse made an exception and let me walk around the garden downstairs.
Most summer days were unbearably hot, and there weren’t many patients wandering outside.
I preferred staying in the shade, beneath the trees.
Near the center courtyard stood a white grand piano, resting beneath the pavilion.
It seemed to have been donated by a former patient.
On lucky days, someone talented would sit down and play a piece.
+15 BONUS
Chapter 10
Lately, a boy around seventeen or eighteen had been playing there often.
I remembered him well because of his striking white hair.
His skin was pale too, almost translucent, but not in a sickly way
It probably wasn’t albinism–just a color he had dyed himself.
But he didn’t seem like the rebellious type.
I had watched him for two or three days.
On the fourth day, he didn’t show up.
I had been eyeing that piano for a while.
I learned to play as a child, pushed by my mother to earn a performance certificate.
The piano had probably been there for a long time, and some of the notes were slightly off
I played hesitantly, relying on memory to guide me through the piece.
Then, as I reached a transition, my fingers faltered.
I had forgotten the next note.
I racked my brain but came up empty.
And just as I was about to give up, a slender, pale hand reached out beside me.
Without even opening his eyes, the boy played the part I had struggled to remember.
