She places hand against hand, to stroke the flesh of the overturned palm of this man, this Adrian, who plays a delicate tune aloud, in a stream. A wonderful and melodious tune, that drives up his emotion to the clouds, to where God could say, “You are playing well,” and Adrian keeps playing.
Though, without opening his eyes, he says to her, “You are cold. Have you been outside for long?”
She counters his words with a false smile, signalling the truth, that she had been outside for long. What she does next is speak a few words to him, and they are words that could create disagreement from Adrian, were they not uttered in their gentle tone. For she says, “My dear, I was not alone outside, for I had you in my thoughts. You warmed me, as you always did.”
Still, does he not open his eyes, and he says to her, “You were beautiful, once, and perhaps you still are; though, my eyes are too far closed to see beyond the lids that have shut my vision. I have been focused on this piece for nearly half an hour. Should I open them to see you?”
“You may open them. But, when you do, I may be in the next room, still pretending to look for you,” and he felt her smile, felt its warmth, upon when she spoke these words.