Rondo Alla Turca pt3

“Oh! I know you!” he says. I can’t even talk. My heart is sending too much blood to my brain, to my face. I can’t even move.

“I didn’t know you played the piano! Of course, I guess you don’t get to know anybody any more than by the decorations of their cubicle, right?”

I manage to nod. I drag my feet backwards, lift my arm up to lead the way to my sick piano. He walks over to it. He inspects the D key. Pushes it down, just comes right back up. I simply watch him. His hair falls over his eyes a bit as he works, but he doesn’t mind. He seems to be able to look right through it. As he inspects it further, he makes a serious face. His serious face. When I see it at meetings I’m forced to look away. I don’t know what makes that expression of his so attractive to me, but if I don’t look away quick, I never will.

“I see what the problem is. Did you hit it too hard?” He says. Jumbled words arrange themselves back into things that make sense and quickly move my mouth to let them out. “I was going into a forte, and I guess I got too much into it. How bad is it?”

“It’s not too bad at all, a simple and quick fix is all it is.” He assures me. He looks at me straight in the eye. What does he see when he does that? Simply blue eyes, or are my eyes betraying me and blurting out everything?

I look down. “That’s good then. I’m glad”. He seems dissatisfied. “Hey, I’ve never gotten to know more than your last name.”

I nod. I don’t know his first name either. All I know is that he’s Japanese…but that’s about as much as I know of his identity. “I am Rosalie”. He smiles.

“That’s a nice name, Rosalie. I’m Daisuke.”

Such a different name. What would a song sound like for that name?

“Let’s see. I  have the perfect tool for that here”. He takes out a screwdriver and a little flashlight and messes with something in it. Eventually, the key comes back down. My eyes widen. Is it really fixed? He presses it—it makes a sound.

“That was really fast! Wow…how much is it?” I say excitedly, forgetting how flustered I am with him here.

“Nothing at all. It was just re-tightening a screw, why should I charge you?” he says, smiling.

I blush. He starts packing up his things. I don’t want him to go yet! My eyes dart around the room looking for an excuse to make him stay…just a little bit, even. They find one.

“Would you like some Colombian coffee?”