Little Piano
Before the summer sun got too hot, Dillon took Evie to the other barn. The one he’d gotten hurt in playin’ as a child.
Evie gasped, “this is the barn.”
He blushed, “yelp.”
She skipped through the hay. “We had just watch some of the Olympics and thought it would be cool to swing from the rafters. Like the gymnast.”
“It was fun.”
“Until you got hurt.”
He raised an eyebrow, smiling.
She raised an old dusty tarp. Under it was a little piano, “Dillon, does it work?”
He tickled the ivory. “Out of tune but it works. You want it?”
“I can’t play.”
“Maybe the local sheriff will stop by from time to time and play.”
“I’d like that.”
She picked out the piano, a bed frame, dresser, a stand along mirror. Dillon encouraged her to take what she wanted. In the attic of the house was a daybed. And what may have been a cut off table. A children’s table for larger holiday meals. It had 4 chairs and it was a little shorter than a standard dining room table, she loved it. “I feel like a little kid.” She gushed. “When you share a meal with me, will this be uncomfortable?”
He sat at the table, “as long as I don’t stay seated all day.”
She shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “I know what I’ll be doing tomorrow.”
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