Awards
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M.R., Toronto, Canada - July 21, 2017
Elias hadn’t touched his clarinet in three years. Not since the accident that left his right pinky numb. The piano was easier—he could teach, accompany, disappear into the background. But the clarinet demanded breath, the fragile seal of his embouchure, the press of metal keys against flesh.
When he finished, the apartment was silent except for the rain.
He realized, suddenly, what the “note that isn’t written” was.
Elias uncapped his pen and wrote at the bottom of the last page: “Played June 12th. I found it.”
Elias closed his eyes and played the clarinet line from memory, without the instrument—just his voice, humming. The melody climbed like a question, then descended in a long, exhausted sigh. Lento e malinconico. Slow and melancholy.