The final note lingered in the room like breath caught between words.
Billy let it fade. He didn't rush to lift his hands from the keys—just sat there, letting the silence return naturally, like closing a chapter without slamming the cover shut.
He exhaled, deep and steady, and rested his fingers in his lap.
A small part of him wanted to keep playing, but he knew it was enough for today.
Sometimes, enough was... enough.
He gently lowered the lid, careful not to let it snap.
The wood felt warm under his palm—almost as if it had responded to him too.
With a soft push of the bench, he stood, took one last look at the corner of the room where the light still filtered in, and stepped out.
Outside, the village had warmed up.
Sunlight spilled across the square, catching the windows, drawing long golden shadows across the brick.
A few early risers were out sweeping storefronts or adjusting festival decorations that had slipped during the night breeze.
