J. 

She runs her fingers down my ribs as gently as she plays the piano. 

Passionately,

With grace.

With softness. 

Her giggles have the range of the chords we pluck on these wooden instruments on the bedroom floor. 

Play it loudly.

Louder.

I’m asking for an encore. 

She’s the band that only comes around ever so often. 

Play it loudly.

Encore.

Encore.

Encore.

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