Like every other morning, Maisie woke up early. She went into the kitchen, fed the cats ’cause cats need feeding the first of the day. Then she brewed herself an extra-special brew of coffee. And that’s when it happened every morning. She made magic with her fingers. And before her breakfast too.
She went and pulled out the black wooden bench and she sat at her piano and played, her fingers pressing each key with precision. Later she had to pick up some final fireworks for the Fourth celebration. She had to pick up the dozen picnic baskets. She had to give two of her friends a ride.
That was for others. This time was for her. Her moments with Beethoven and Chopin, Mozart and Ravel. Their magic kept her going throughout the day. Through all the rough and tumble of that day. No matter how bad things were she knew the next morning her friends at the piano waited for her.