Let us write a few words about: the instrument.
It's been a long day and I am ready for bed.
Oh, the Canucks won their first of the season tonight. Wasn't pretty but I'll take it.
It lurks in the corner of the living room, gathering dust and regret. Holding tightly to both, it watches me. I can feel its gaze crawl across my skin.
It watches me read, watches me as I, in turn, watch mindless television shows. It sees me eat, sleep, clean - everything else in the room, the house, my life. Floors and walls cannot stop its stare.
It watches most keenly when I ignore it, neglect it. Which just happens to be all the time.
Filling me with guilt and shame, it reminds me of the long ago lessons that my fingers have forgotten. No words are needed for this, I just need to glance in its direction.
Daunting and debilitating, this supposedly inanimate piano.