“It’s almost time to say goodnight. Our final selection this evening is a piece that has quietly been drawing attention of late: With Every December. Composed by J. Quill, with Éric A. Laurent at the piano.
Keep warm, and sleep well.
This is Sean Brinkley, signing off. Good night—and pleasant dreams.”
—That song again.
Terrence felt something ache deep inside his chest.
Lately, the piano solo seemed to be playing on the radio wherever he went.
With Every December
One note, then another.
The notes spilled softly from the keys, like flakes of snow drifting down from some distant sky—quiet and cold, and yet somehow gentle.
As the final note faded away, Terrence reached over and switched off the little radio.
At once, the silence that had been gathering in the corners of the room seemed to spread softly around his feet.
He had first heard the piece around the time the city began to glow with Christmas lights.
It had caught him completely off guard.
At first, he had thought it was merely some piano piece drifting out from a shop.
But before even a few measures had passed, he found himself rooted to the spot.
Before he knew it, the noise of the city had receded into the distance, and there was nothing left but the music.
There was no dazzling virtuosity, nothing showy meant to astonish the listener. And yet each note seemed to speak quietly of feelings that had never been entrusted to another soul.
—With every December.
The melody was not singing of Christmas happiness.
This was…
a song of farewell.
And the moment he thought it, the memory of that blizzard night came rushing back.
White breath in the cold.
Trembling shoulders.
A back that never turned.
Memories he had believed long buried in the deepest part of his heart rose slowly to the surface, pale and white, as though the music itself were drawing them upward.
By the time he realized what he was doing, Terrence’s fingers were resting on the piano keys.
Gently, he traced the melody with his fingertips.
That alone was enough to stir something inside him—something he had locked away so tightly, so long ago.
From beyond the lingering notes, she appeared again as she had been that night.
Her faint outline, growing smaller and smaller through the steadily falling snow.
The man he had been, standing there and watching her go.
The man who had been able to do nothing but watch her go.
Even after all these years, those two selves had never made peace with each other. Somewhere inside him, they were still standing there in the snow.
Terrence slowly lifted his hands from the keys and let out a long, deep breath.
Thunderous applause, the blinding glare of the spotlights—once he sat down at the piano, they faded so completely that they might have belonged to some distant country, leaving not even an echo behind.
No matter how many hundreds of eyes were fixed upon him, there was one thing he could never escape:
the pain of that night, carried back to him by this melody.
♫ Music inspired by With Every December
Vontmer – Eye
➾ Find me on Instagram here
Keep warm, and sleep well.
This is Sean Brinkley, signing off. Good night—and pleasant dreams.”
—That song again.
Terrence felt something ache deep inside his chest.
Lately, the piano solo seemed to be playing on the radio wherever he went.
With Every December
One note, then another.
The notes spilled softly from the keys, like flakes of snow drifting down from some distant sky—quiet and cold, and yet somehow gentle.
As the final note faded away, Terrence reached over and switched off the little radio.
At once, the silence that had been gathering in the corners of the room seemed to spread softly around his feet.
He had first heard the piece around the time the city began to glow with Christmas lights.
It had caught him completely off guard.
At first, he had thought it was merely some piano piece drifting out from a shop.
But before even a few measures had passed, he found himself rooted to the spot.
Before he knew it, the noise of the city had receded into the distance, and there was nothing left but the music.
There was no dazzling virtuosity, nothing showy meant to astonish the listener. And yet each note seemed to speak quietly of feelings that had never been entrusted to another soul.
—With every December.
The melody was not singing of Christmas happiness.
This was…
a song of farewell.
And the moment he thought it, the memory of that blizzard night came rushing back.
White breath in the cold.
Trembling shoulders.
A back that never turned.
Memories he had believed long buried in the deepest part of his heart rose slowly to the surface, pale and white, as though the music itself were drawing them upward.
By the time he realized what he was doing, Terrence’s fingers were resting on the piano keys.
Gently, he traced the melody with his fingertips.
That alone was enough to stir something inside him—something he had locked away so tightly, so long ago.
From beyond the lingering notes, she appeared again as she had been that night.
Her faint outline, growing smaller and smaller through the steadily falling snow.
The man he had been, standing there and watching her go.
The man who had been able to do nothing but watch her go.
Even after all these years, those two selves had never made peace with each other. Somewhere inside him, they were still standing there in the snow.
Terrence slowly lifted his hands from the keys and let out a long, deep breath.
Thunderous applause, the blinding glare of the spotlights—once he sat down at the piano, they faded so completely that they might have belonged to some distant country, leaving not even an echo behind.
No matter how many hundreds of eyes were fixed upon him, there was one thing he could never escape:
the pain of that night, carried back to him by this melody.
♫ Music inspired by With Every December
Vontmer – Eye
➾ Find me on Instagram here