He was something I never had the chance to touch. So far from my reach, but so steady in my mind. His presence in my world was short lived, but his melody will never leave.
I met Franklin when I went for an audition last winter. I remember my socks being wet and my hair falling flat, but he still gave me a smile when he first saw me. I fell for him in that very moment.
“Please, just come into the light,” he advised. He sat at the piano with his back to me, yet he felt so close. I couldn’t see the director; I couldn’t see anything at all. “Hailey,” he said, and I swear the world went away. I nodded, spoke my lines, then fell into the song he had composed.
“I loved it,” I mumbled after the others had left.
“It’s nothing,” he returned. “Your voice… it’s inspiring,” he said. I felt the air in my lungs leave with a sudden gasp.
And so we were. I followed him—in every moment—and he kept my pace. I sang his songs, studied his music, and feared nothing. The days became weeks and soon he held me close. I reveled in his arms; sturdy and without pain.
But then, all things wonderful seem to fall.
And though his love was pure and strong, his mind was poisoned. The time we shared should have shown me, but all I saw was his talent. And though I loved him for it, I despised him for using it as a curtain.
The day I found him—lying across the piano with his wrists slit—I didn’t cry. I felt numb from my fingers to my nose. It was something I now regret. Though, I will never forget.