—>John: play concerto that reminds you of the 13 years of your life.
While you will play some piano, you’re not so much worried about your entire life as you are about the past two or so days of it.
You remember your father rousing you this morning, saying something about running out to the store to pick up some things (probably cake mix, eggs, or the like) and saying he’d be back by noon, sleep well, happy birthday son, I-Love-You. You know, the usual. But it’s well past noon. It’s 4:30. He isnt back yet and won’t answer your texts or calls, his phone is off, and you’re sort of freaking out your fingers flying, notes bunching together, eyebrows drawn, where could he be why isnt he back and why in gods name is there so much screaming out there
