Fictional

It was the night of his debut. He was well prepared, technically and mentally.

As he strode up the stage, the applause was unexpectant. The hall was half empty anyway.

When the clapping died down, the conductor started. Above the quiverings of the strings, he made his entry. The warmth of his sound caused the once apathetic audience to sit up, suddenly attentive.

He went on, sometimes with and sometimes above the orchestra. He gave everything that night, his feelings, his experiences, and most of all, his hopes and dreams. For the whole nine minutes, the audience no longer heard. They listened.

The ending was quiet, like most romances. He had expanded himself. Sweat ran down his face and he was tired.

Rousing applause. Never had the audience heard such an effective interpretation.

But he was sad.

For he knew he could not take those dreams with him, off the stage.