Recital

Recital - by J. Hillard

I remember the light’s glare off of the white keys.
What were they called?
I could not remember.
A, B, C.
Oh, which one is A?
My mind reeling and the back of my head burning from the stares.
Sweat forming on the palms of my hands.
Black splotches on my book.
What were they called?
Notes.
Where do my fingers go?
How did I get myself into this?
My cheeks were burning.
A gentle, guiding voice.
Sigh, please help.
Warm hands on my own.
Gentle, guiding hands.
Applause.
Feigned, uncomfortable, and relieved applause.
A dark room.
A chair in the corner.
My Dad’s smile.
Saftey.