Mystery Music

    In the apartment above ours, a piano played itself, slipping notes through the invisible cracks in the ceiling. Though the music had its ups and downs, some parts sounding chipper only to dive deep into the hard legatos, the mood of the pianist stayed the same. 

    There stood an ominous looming over the music. The notes dragged a heavy package as they played with each other. If the music was a child, the pianist was a parent carrying the frustration of knowing what their kids should never know. 

    "Did our neighbor always play the piano?" Lei asked, peeking into the kitchen, "I've never heard them play before." I shrugged. 

    "New neighbor?" I said. A thoughtful expression crossed Lei's face before they slipped back into their room. 

    "We should visit them sometime," I called. 

    "Mmm." The music stopped, and there was a muffled thump. 

    Above our apartment, a mysterious stranger played a mysterious tune. The tune sang of a cheerful waltz, yet the partners dancing so intimately together each loved someone else. Both leaned uncomfortably into each other, and both cried out in their cursed shoes. 

    In their life, the stranger wasn't so mysterious. Like everyone else, they had ten fingers to navigate the keys and two feet to walk on the ground. Their life's story had been clear to them since the day they were born, and there's no one else less mysterious to themselves than they are. 

    All of their misfortunes etch onto a slate in front of them, reserved for them to read. One day, they might let someone else carry it with them. 

    Though sometimes, they wished that the contents of their slate were just as mysterious to them as to everyone else.