TheLonelyGurl

You gaze over the ivory keys in both curiosity and wonder at the instrument which the Master played and composed his heavenly pieces. It astonished you. How an instrument could produce such beautiful sounds at the touch of such a being. Your Master’s. Monsieur Destler. Though he did always prefer the title of Master from your lips. He was a famous composer, one of which could not be identified truthfully by anyone. He never attended gala’s, nor balls, meeting were letters which were delivered by your hand. He was a stranger in the eyes of the public. Even yourself. It had been three years since you had began working for him,