He plays.

Her eyes close and she floats, softly, drifting like a cloud in the sky. The sounds swirl around her, waves of bright colour; brash scarlet, refreshing green, electric blue, exploding in a rainbow of sound.

He finishes with a flourish at the end and she sinks slowly to the ground, the floor suddenly hard beneath her feet. The woman next to her fidgets and throws her a wary glance.

He turns the page to start another. His hands hover, trembling over the keys. Mozart. Her favourite. He plays this for her. Her eyes want to close again, but she resists this time. She watches him as he plays. He wears a black suit with a grey tie; ordinary. His hair is wavy and dark as a raven's wing. He's not particularly striking, his eyes are the common brown, his teeth are slightly crooked. He looks so mundane, yet he is not.

His hands move frantically across the keys as if his life depends on him touching the right one .He throws his head back, his eyes close; his dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks. His lips parts slightly and she is sure that his breath is warm and sweet.

She watches his hands, since this is the source of his magic. His fingers, long and thin flutter across the instrument, barely seeming to touch the keys. She has the sudden urge to still them, to stop their frenzied movement and just hold them quietly in hers. She smiles at that thought.

He ends the piece and stands as the audience around her erupts into applause. It sounds so loud after the peaceful stillness and she puts her hands over her ears.

The crowd gathers around him, obscuring him from her eyes. She sighs and gets up to leave. As she passes through the grand oak doors, he turns his head and catches her eyes.

He smiles and waves, his smile bright and only for her.

"See you at home."