The walk from the booth to the corner of the bakery felt like a mile. Elara approached the spinet piano, gently moving the stack of napkins off the lid. The keys were dusty and chipped, some permanently depressed. It was a far cry from the newly tuned upright waiting for her at Glenwood Cottage.
She sat on the wobbly wooden stool. The low hum of chatter in the bakery continued, no one really paying attention to the woman in the oversized cardigan sitting at the broken piano.
She placed her hands on the keys. Taking a deep breath, she bypassed the gentle, jazzy chords Leo had written. This piano couldn't handle beauty; it was too broken. But it could handle the storm.
The sound was jarring, slightly out of tune, and metallic. A few people near the front of the shop paused their conversations, turning their heads in surprise.
Elara didn't stop. She launched into the heavy, chaotic bridge she had composed the day before. Her fingers flew across the chipped keys, pouring all her unspoken grief, her anger, and her silent screams into the music. The spinet rattled and groaned under the force of her playing, the cracked soundboard giving the notes a raw, gritty edge that somehow made the storm sound even more real.
The clatter of coffee cups slowly ceased. The chatter died down. The only sound in *The Hearthside Bakery* was the violent, passionate, desperate music pouring from the corner.
Elara closed her eyes, entirely lost in the rhythm. She wasn't playing for the crowd; she was playing for Leo, for the unfairness of it all, and for the fact that she was still here, breathing, while he wasn't. She played until her chest heaved and her fingers stung.
And then, just as she had done in the cottage, she brought the chaotic crescendo to a sudden, dramatic halt.
Her hands hovered over the keys, trembling. She kept her eyes closed, terrified of the silence that followed. She waited for the whispers, for the awkward coughs, for someone to ask her to leave
Instead, a tiny pair of hands began to clap furiously.
"The dragon!" Lily cheered from the booth.
Soon, the clapping spread. A few patrons clapped politely; others smiled warmly. Elara opened her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She looked around the bakery. People weren't looking at her with pity. They were looking at her with awe.