Charlotte was in a totally different place.  WHen he walked in and placed the towel down she nodded, sitting back, stretching her fingers.  She felt alive, so good.  She had forgotten the delight that she felt when she played.  She sat at the piano and spent a minute or two collecting her thoughts, calming her mind and preparing herself.<br/><br/>Then she began.  She played the Sonata from her heart.  She even closed her eyes at one point, the tears streaming from her eyes as the tempo changed.  The passion, the pain, the hurt all flowing from the music as her fingers caressed the ivory and ebony keys.<br/><br/>Time had no meaning.  She just played, oblivious of the man watching her.  All that mattered was the music.  She played as if her life depended on it.  The last traces of music fading away as she let her fingers rest, she felt the pulse of life and knew she could never not have her music.<br/><br/>Exhaustion was written over her face, she slumped forward, her forehead touching the polished wood of the instrument.  "Thank you" she whispered, not sure if he would hear or understand the gift he had given her.. for him she would do anything...she would be anything if he continued to let her play...<br/><br/>