Echoes of the Golden Age
The piano in the Back Room was an upright from 1922, probably, though Julian would have guessed 1918. The ivory keys were yellowed, not white, and the middle C had a sticky key that depressed halfway and then caught, like a throat clearing itself before speaking. Julian knew every note, every fault, every betrayal that piano could make. He had played it every Friday and Saturday night for seven...
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