The Forgetful Composer

Was that knocking? It was.

Henry let his fingers sink with the keys. He’d been working on the melody for hours, but something still wasn’t right.

He swung the apartment door open and had to blink into the brightness of the hallway. As his eyes adjusted he took in the curious features of the attractive nurse who lived next door.

“Hi, Emma.”

“Hey, Henry. Heard you playing, and thought I’d check in. Why do you have an extension cord running out Malcolm’s letterbox and in through yours?”

“Oh, well, I kind of forgot to pay the utilities. So no lights or heat. Malcolm’s leant me a space heater and extension cord so I could have some warmth.”

“Gotcha. So what are you working on?” Emma asked.

“A piece for the play. Want to come in and be my critic?” He stepped aside and gestured to the piano bathed in candlelight.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry. I promise the candles are purely for seeing, not seducing.”

What a stupid thing to say! He could feel a blush creeping into his cheeks.

Emma chuckled. “Alright then.”

She walked in and settled into an armchair.

Henry returned to the bench, hands poised above the keys.

“Wait,” Emma said over the low humming of the space heater.

“What?”

“Well what’s the story?”

“The story?”

“You know, what’s the play about and what part is this for?”

“It’s about a world traveler who falls in love with a photojournalist and his quest to find her again. This is the part where he catches sight of her on a departing ship.”

“How romantic! Okay, play,” Emma directed.

Henry’s fingers danced as he played his favorite version. At the end he turned slowly to look at Emma.

“It’s stunning, Henry. But -”

“But?”

Emma came over to perch beside him on the bench. “It’s too sad.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! He’s just caught sight of the woman he loves and knows she’s not that far away.”

“But she’s sailing away from him.”

“But he’s seen her! He has hope again.”

As they’d been talking they’d both scooted closer and leaned in a bit. Their faces weren’t far apart and the realization set Henry’s heartbeat aflutter.

“Does it feel hot in here to you?” Henry asked. “I think the space heater might be turned up too high.”

“No, I think it feels just right.”

Henry gulped. Was this happening?

“Emma?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

They leaned in and their lips caressed one anothers gently and lightly, then they parted slowly.

“Try again!” Emma exclaimed.

Henry was slightly taken aback but leaned forward.

“No, not that! Not right now anyways,” said Emma. “Try the song again.”

Henry nodded. “Right!”

It was a little unnerving – her being so close to him, but also comforting. In his mind he held onto Emma’s laughter and crafted a tune that best captured its cadence.

After a few minutes he paused and glanced to his side.

Emma was beaming. “Perfect!

Author's Note: This was written for the first round of the 2024 NYC Midnight 500 Word Fiction Challenge. My assignment included the following: Genre - Romantic Comedy, Action - Playing a Piano, Object - A space heater