In a certain town. The sound of a piano lured me in, and I quietly peeked in through the half-open door to find the air warm and the smell of something good wafting through the air. It was late for lunch and still early for dinner. In the dimly lit restaurant, there were two people taking a break. One was playing the piano and the other was sipping wine and eating pizza. One of the wines noticed me and beckoned me over. There was a grand piano in the middle of the floor, three steps down from the entrance, and a variety of chairs of different materials and sizes settled around it, haphazardly but each in its perfect place. All the chairs were horribly aged. I sat down on the velveteen one-person sofas and closed my eyes. The bull of a grand piano ran to the melody of the piano.

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