The strings pulled at the heart. A young woman’s voice blended harmoniously as the piano keys danced, the strings following behind. At the piano, the young woman sang, but it was not her that was there.
Beyond the piano, a much younger girl stood. It was her voice that came out from the other woman’s. She sang of pain, of torment, of suffering.
The teenager was almost transparent, faded. Her lips moved in time with the young woman’s. As she told the other to keep on believing, her eyes and face contorted with pain. Her hand fist fell upon the table heavily, protesting and trying to tell her older self to keep on believing. She knew the pain of the present, but she believed that the future was so much brighter, that there was something more, that their dreams could be reached.
As the song came to a close, the older woman looked up and saw herself. With a bittersweet smile at each other, she mouthed the words, which the younger sang.
“Dear me, who is reading this letter, I wish you happiness.”