My fingers fell onto the Casio keyboard and a blurting sound came out. The walls shook, and the landlord started pounding, kick drum style. He yelled a roaring yell, and I spun around. I twisted the doorknob and almost broke my wrist. I listened to him make his case, and he wanted to staple the eviction warning to my forehead, I am sure. I put my hands up to cover my face, leaving my stomach exposed. He punched me in the gut and walked away. His steps echoed like snare drums disappearing and I went in and sat down. How am I to write my symphony. I will have to burn it with fire into my heart.
Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash
