“I don’t know, I have this feeling, that I’m doing something wrong and I can’t …”
The voice faded into the dim flickering light of the fire that lit the room as the music bounced off the walls filled with books. Through the Widnes, nothing could be seen through the thick fog that descended over the streets of the city.
Hands danced over the keys, pressing them down and jumping to the next. Agile spiders and graceful fingers, uninterrupted, even if the phrase was.left unfinished by the musician. Eyes lost in the movement, conflicted and as clouded as the night.
“Why do you say that?”
The person that walked in let the jacket fall on top of a black couch and sat down in it. Certainly the musician had talent, a talent to get in trouble and question what shouldn’t be questioned.
“don’t know “
“You’re helping people, you know that”
“But what if…?” The music stopped as the musician turned back.
Yes, I know. But, you know I work with the higher ups “ The person stood up to stand in front of the musician. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I noticed anything strange?” (edited)
