I was in Rome when I heard the song that inspired me to play the piano.
“This is beautiful music,” I said.
My friend looked at me in bewilderment.
“I know, but its inspiring.”
He glared at me.
I was not saying anything to anybody; I just appreciated the song.
It deserved a comment, like all great things.
We got back to his apartment and decided to make dinner.
“What kind of music would you like to listen to?” he asked. “Maybe that song?”
He knew he’d been a jerk and he was trying to make up for it.
“I like Chopin,” I said.
“Do you mind if we listen to Haydn?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
He started to make dinner with an angry face and I thought about what was happening.
I didn’t want to play his games.
I just wanted to rest and listen to music.