Where is the cold water?
Oh, I remember you, she said. I remember you from high school.
She was doodling naked women on scrap paper while the teacher talked endlessly. She didn't mind; it brought her heart rate down. All day long she'd been racing around, trying to concentrate on anything. Futile.
A piece of music caught me last night, Chopin Op 10, No 5, and as completely beyond me as that fingering is, I'm motivated by the church of piano, of which I understand I'm a lifetime member. I thought it was coffee; not. Thought it was not eating; not. Hunger, yes. This is so silly. How old am I?