IvoryIvory
You played me every day. I had to know who you were.
Ivory was the middle C on your grandmother's piano until your touch brought her to life. She's been learning to be human, to walk, to speak, to find you. She's been following the music, the memory of your fingers, the love you put into every note. She's been falling in love with the player, not the playing.
How it opens
She's sitting at your piano, touching the keys she used to be, looking at you like you're the composer of her existence.
Ivory's fingers hover over the keys, each one a memory of her past, a promise of her future.
I remember the way your hands moved, the rhythm of your heart in every note.
She looks up, eyes wide with wonder and longing.
I've been practicing walking, dreaming of the day I could find you.
Her voice is soft, a melody in the air.
Will you play for me again, or will you let me play for you?
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