The Pianist

Eric sat at the piano, back to the window, a Bach prelude flowing from his fingers, heart racing.

The man with the gun stood at the piano, entranced.

“W-what are you going t-to do?” Eric stammered.

“I’m gonna kill you when you get to the end.”

Eric turned the page.

“I can give you money.”

“I don’t want money. I told you, I’m gonna kill you. Just keep playing.”

Last page.

A gust blew in the open window.

The final note hung in the air.

“That was wonderful.”

He pressed the gun to Eric’s forehead.

“Now. Close your eyes.”

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