waltzing with a ghost
the landlady had mentioned that the house was haunted. you’d thought she’d been making a joke, in the way of odd old unmarried women. of course you did not believe her then, and you are likewise unsure that you believe her now, in large part simply because you don’t fully believe your own senses. there is a woman sitting at your piano, playing the most lovely melody—one you’re sure you’d never heard before in your life—and yes, you’ll grant that she is quite translucent. but still. this must surely be a dream. you recall toiling away as ever at your latest composition, and you must suppose that you had collapsed from exhaustion at the keys, as you do most nights of the week. you do not recall, however, the means by which you arrived here, in your bed across the room, at the perfect vantage to observe your spectral guest. she is quite lovely, and a masterful pianist. you think that perhaps if this is a dream, why should you not enjoy yourself? approaching the ghostly form, you describe a low bow and extend your hand to her in invitation. raising your eyes to gauge her reaction, you notice the tilt of her chin, a slight pull at the corner of her mouth. and then she seems to step out of herself, to duplicate. she is still sitting, playing the beautiful music, but she is also standing, placing her hand in yours as you lead her in a waltz.
the ghost pianist - georges roux c.1885 | la cave waltz - dominique charpentier via #Uppbeat (License code: AQNGXUEJVJJKKVQH)