There was something different about his playing now, she could tell. An urgency of sorts. It was almost as if he knew there wouldn’t be enough time to play all the notes he needed to play, for all the songs that needed to be sung and the lyrics that needed to come out.
Because the hardest part was the not knowing. Not when he would die, no, not that. But what song – out of all the songs that had ever been – would be the last one he would hear.