The New Moon

The voice had spoken. The library was approaching its closing time and thus visitors should leave. I cleared the desk and walked away. As I stepped out of the building, I looked up and saw a clear sky. I wondered if this was the beginning of the holy month.

Walking past a series of trees I thought there had been a couple of lizards climbing the trunks and frogs leaping around, intent on making their presence known to me. On one of the stone stairs, a sleepy kitten snuggled in a terrifyingly cute manner. I felt incredibly light on my feet. The night was warm and silent.

The music started.

What came next must have been akin to a “Nodame” moment —moments in which she felt charged, inspired, and driven to play the piano to the point of self-abandonment and neglect. Notes, of sorrow and delight, were bursting inside my head. It was exhilarating as well as disquieting. I feared that if I could not pin these notes down on a piano as soon as possible, they would vanish.

It was intoxicating that I began to get suspicious.

Was it the moon? Or lack of it?

Had my afternoon tea been spiked? Or my lunch poisoned?

Have I caught a fever?

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