She was beautiful. Her slim, tapered fingers seemed to dance over the keys of the piano and she was smiling like an angel. The black, polished bench upon which she sat matched her shiny black patent shoes which kept holding down on the gleaming golden paddles below her instrument. Skills…
Angela Simpson led quite a difficult life. Fending for her son, daughter and herself all at the same time was quite a struggle but she managed it. The song she had been practicing for this concert however, was special. It had a melancholy tune at the start, with a build up to a fast, lively one which made people want to clap along to the beat and you had to actually feel it to make the audience actually relate to the song.
Her simple, flowered dress was pink and yellow, and she had a matching sparkly clutcher in her hair. Ah… her hair. It was done up in a chic ponytail which made her look even more elegant as usual…
She finished the song with a flourish. Slowly turning around to a silent audience, she glanced around the audience uncertainly. Looking at their faces, she suddenly felt a slight sense of triumph. Many of the people were looking at her with tears in their eyes, dabbing at them with their handkerchiefs. She got up off her seat, feeling like crying herself. She had worked so hard to perfect her technique and finally, she was experiencing the sweet sense of victory.
She was standing up now, looking a little like she was going to cry. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled, looking just beautiful. She was unreachable, to a jejune boy such as himself…
"I would like to dedicate this song to my son, who suffers from learning difficulties and has been one of my main inspirations. He struggles on day after day and yet is so brave. To my son, Jack Simpson!"
She was coming towards him now, reaching out for him, crying into his hair! What was happening? Why was she doing this, this unknown beauty? And then he remembered.
"Oh, Jackie! I love you so much!" she snuffled, sounding much younger than she actually was.
"Mom?" he asked, in a surprisingly deep voice.
She squealed in joy and tears spurted out of her eyes.
"That's the first word my baby's spoken!"
Angela Simpson led quite a difficult life. Fending for her son, daughter and herself all at the same time was quite a struggle but she managed it. The song she had been practicing for this concert however, was special. It had a melancholy tune at the start, with a build up to a fast, lively one which made people want to clap along to the beat and you had to actually feel it to make the audience actually relate to the song.
Her simple, flowered dress was pink and yellow, and she had a matching sparkly clutcher in her hair. Ah… her hair. It was done up in a chic ponytail which made her look even more elegant as usual…
She finished the song with a flourish. Slowly turning around to a silent audience, she glanced around the audience uncertainly. Looking at their faces, she suddenly felt a slight sense of triumph. Many of the people were looking at her with tears in their eyes, dabbing at them with their handkerchiefs. She got up off her seat, feeling like crying herself. She had worked so hard to perfect her technique and finally, she was experiencing the sweet sense of victory.
She was standing up now, looking a little like she was going to cry. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled, looking just beautiful. She was unreachable, to a jejune boy such as himself…
"I would like to dedicate this song to my son, who suffers from learning difficulties and has been one of my main inspirations. He struggles on day after day and yet is so brave. To my son, Jack Simpson!"
She was coming towards him now, reaching out for him, crying into his hair! What was happening? Why was she doing this, this unknown beauty? And then he remembered.
"Oh, Jackie! I love you so much!" she snuffled, sounding much younger than she actually was.
"Mom?" he asked, in a surprisingly deep voice.
She squealed in joy and tears spurted out of her eyes.
"That's the first word my baby's spoken!"
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