The address led to a brick building with a green door. I hesitated for a long time before going in.
Inside, the smell of waxed wood and old paper enveloped me.
It was a music studio.
In the center, a magnificent upright piano. The walls were covered with shelves filled with sheet music. On the music stand, Claude Debussy's "Clair de Lune" and Ludwig van Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" — my favorite pieces.
On a table, recordings labeled: "For Camille - December 2018", "For Camille - March 2020"... Dozens of them.
Next to them were medical records. He had known for years that his heart was fragile.
He had also left instructions for the flowers to be delivered to me after his departure. He had thought of everything.
The dream I had abandoned
Then I found a newspaper.
He recounted how, one day, he had heard me talking about my childhood dream: to become a pianist. I had laughed, saying that life had decided otherwise.
I thought I had buried that dream.
Not him.
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