The Piano That Remembers
In a dim corner of an old house, an ancient piano stood in silence. Its edges were worn and dust covered its surface, yet it never forgot the first fingers that touched it.
Each key carried a memory: a laugh, a tear, or a melody born in a moment of honesty.
Years passed, and the players changed, until silence took over and everyone thought its voice had died.
But on a quiet night, a trembling hand touched its keys, and the melody awoke tired, sincere, like a heart that had been wounded but never lost its ability to love.
Then the piano understood and the room understood with it that what truly grows old is neither wood nor strings, but memories that find no one to listen.