Piano

‘Can you remember what you were dreaming about just now?’ asks Paul.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Were you playing the piano?’
‘How do you know?!’
‘Cause you were moving your fingers like this’ he demonstrates on my arm.
I laugh and turn onto my other side.
‘So was it at your parents’ place?’
‘No’
‘Where was it then?’
‘I don’t know. In a house. I was playing and you came in and said something about dinner, and I said okay and went back to playing.’
‘Was it our house?’
‘Possibly.’
‘I like that dream’ he says and pulls me closer in.

I think I might see if there’s a piano at school I could play.
I think it’s time.
Cause this time it’s all about me. And the piano, of course.