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If there was one thing that always surprised Stelle, it was how desolate malls could be at their closing hours. Even as near to an hour being closing could be as if she were walking around an abandoned ghost town. For some people, this could be unnerving, and if Stelle were to be honest. It was unnerving for her the first few times as well. As it was however, this was just routine now.
She didn’t have anything affiliated with the mall in question. It was a normal shopping center smack dab in the middle of town. But for some reason she kept finding herself inexplicably drawn back to it in the after hours of daylight. She knew why, it was the simple corner that drew her in, away from everything and everyone, and only housed a lone grand piano.
Pitiful was not the correct word to use about the condition, as it was still in good shape, but very obviously woefully unused. After all, what was the point of going out of one’s way to play on a piano in the middle of the mall? The background music and white noise from the various people that filled the stores would undoubtedly drown out the majority of the notes that played from the sole instrument.
Of course, that would normally be the case. But in the hour before closing Stelle found that the music would be cut off, and there would only be a few stragglers of the stores left. If any at all. The rest of the people would be various employees closing up shop, and they never gave her more than a passing glance.
So, on one weekday night, Stelle sat down at the piano’s bench and started to play.
It was slow at first, Stelle would not consider herself some sort of maestro, but she had played for the majority of her life and playing the piano was like riding a bike. One never truly forgot it, no matter the type. Eventually she would go through songs for an hour before one of the custodians would kindly tell her that she would need to leave the mall.
She never blamed them for it. They were just doing their job, and an hour was all she needed. An hour to play the stress of the day away. From work, or people, or friends and family. Sometimes just from life itself.
So, over the course of a month, Stelle would find herself coming back to the mall piano a majority of the days in the week. The only time she didn’t, was when she had prior arrangements, or was forced to work overtime and was simply too tired to do anything else.
A month was enough to get to know some of the people who closed up shop. Not many of them were even around by the time she started to play, as many shops closed before the mall itself closed, but there were a few who did.
Such things were far and few between however, as Stelle spent the majority of her nights alone in the corner of the mall, the keys of the piano gliding beneath her fingers and a melody singing away from the instrument.
Until one night, things changed. She had a visitor in the most unexpected manner.
It began as normal, most shops had already been closed down, and no one was there to greet her. She sat down on the bench and started to play. It was a light melody, an improvised one, where the keys flowed together and the notes were soft like raindrops. She didn't stop between songs, merely continuing from one to the next. Her next wasn't improvised, but a classic of renown. She got nearly halfway through the song of marriage until she was joined by another instrument.
Beautiful notes of harmony emanated from what could only be a violin. They echoed throughout her corner of the mall in tandem with her own piano and even caused Stelle to halt her performance in shock at the suddenness.
Despite the fact that she paused her playing, the mysterious violinist didn't, and the song continued. Canon in D played for another dozen beats before Stelle resumed.
If someone wanted to join her in song, she wouldn't be the one to deny them.
Her fingers graced upon the piano once more, picking up on the same note that the violin was currently playing. The timbre of notes sounded in harmony, becoming a sum greater than its parts. Stelle played together with her new unknown company until the song ended, where they both ended on one singular slow note.
Unlike before, she didn't weave into her next song without stopping. She took the time to look around, trying but ultimately failing at locating who was dueting with her.
"Hello?" She called.
She got a response, but not in words. Strings started to sing once more in another classical song. There was a brief attempt to locate where the music was originating from, but Stelle quickly gave up. The echo of her little corner of the mall caused music to bounce off the walls happily, making pinpointing the origin difficult. She opted to continue playing instead, joining the violin with her own music.
They played until the hour was up, and the mall closed.
She attempted to locate the person on her way out, but she couldn't find neither hair nor hide of anyone aside from a few shopkeepers and the janitors.
She dwelled upon the identity of her mysterious duet partner until she fell asleep.
The next week wasn’t filled with a duet with a mysterious stranger, but instead her normal solo playing. There was a part of her that held out hope that she might get to play with them once more, but it was quickly dashed as she approached the one week mark from the night.
It was on Sunday however, one week exactly, that her mysterious violinist made their appearance once more. Not in person of course, but with their music. They were the one to initiate this time, as Stelle barely had a chance to sit down on the piano bench before they started playing. It took her a few notes to recognize the song, but once she did, she joined in.
They fell into some sort of odd understanding in the next hour. After the first song, there was a pause that wasn’t started back up from the violinist, Stelle waited a full minute before something seemed to click in her head, and she chose a song to play.
Back and forth they went, passing music between them. Each one taking up the mantle and leading the melody after the other. It was strangely intimate, in a way that Stelle had never yet experienced with anyone else. A sign of trust, with someone they had never met, never spoke to, never even seen. Yet they followed their lead without hesitation, bringing unto sounds that danced in the air and did nothing but delighted the ears to all that it came upon.
Weeks passed by and Stelle grew used to this song and dance between her and the mysterious violinist. Eventually she devised a plan, an admittedly childish one. One that she wasn’t even sure would work. One that required her to make a rather expensive purchase from a music shop that was inside the mall. It was surprisingly close to her little corner, and for a few weeks she spent any free time not used playing the piano, to practice her surprise.
The lone person inside the music store was a small, silver haired… teen? Young woman. She was blowing bubblegum and playing on her phone when she entered, but was surprisingly diligent with helping her pick out a certain instrument. For some reason, she also got a rather hefty discount on it.
“I don’t know, ask the boss.” Is what the clerk said when she asked about it.
Stelle never got a chance to ask the boss. Apparently they only came in on Sundays.
And so, when time came to spring her trap, in the corners of the mall and on a fading Sunday. Stelle brought out the musical instrument she had been practicing in secret.
She stood near the piano, and unhooked the case. Bringing out a beautifully crafted wooden string instrument. Stelle placed her chin on the rest and brought her bow up to the strings.
The golden eyed woman played slow at first, the violin was a more foreign instrument to her, but she had remnants of muscle memory from when she played it during her childhood and the last few weeks of practice had clearly been put to good use. She got through an entire song before she stopped and waited for her mysterious player.
One minute turned into two, and two into three. Stelle had almost given up until she heard a click clack of heels upon the mall floor echo throughout the silence.
A woman of maroon stepped from the shadows, a blind spot in the mall lighting.
“Clever.” The woman commented.
Stelle didn’t respond- couldn’t respond. There was something magnetic about the woman in front of her, the mysterious violinist.
She licked her suddenly dry lips.
“Thank you.” Stelle managed to get out.
The newly practiced violinist couldn’t help her eyes from focusing on the woman’s gloved fingers. The red leather wrapped tightly around her hand. The way they delicately went into starting position on the mall piano that Stelle had spent so much of her time playing away at.
The first few notes sounded, one that Stelle instantly recognized. It wasn’t classical, but more than identifiable for someone like her.
It was slow, the piano creating a somber melody. Like waves upon the night, crashing gently upon the shore. Unseen, untouched, but the soft mist spraying up into the air.
She felt the time to come in more than she knew it. An intuitive compulsion to play guided her through the song.
Stelle felt like a sailor, guided through the darkness on the tumultuous sea. The sound of the piano pushed her forward, steering her in the correct places. Halfway through they swapped roles. The violin became the crashing waves and the piano became the supporting cast. She took the lead in the song, falling into the music and letting it envelop her.
They ended with one final note together, long and drawn out. Like a final push until they came onto the shore.
There was a moment of silence that echoed through the mall. One that was interrupted when Stelle spoke.
“Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.” She noted.
“I wasn’t sure if you knew it.” The maroon woman nodded.
Another beat of silence.
“I’m Stelle.”
“Kafka. An utmost pleasure to finally meet you.”
Kafka. Kafka Kafka Kafka. The name echoed in her mind. There were so many things she wanted to talk about with her mysterious partner, things that refused to come out. Like why she waited so long to introduce herself. Why the violin. She could have said something earlier.
“Do you want to play another?” Is what left her mouth instead.
Kafka hummed and got up from the bench. She came in close to Stelle, elevating the musician's heartbeat to levels she didn’t think possible.
“Can I?” Kafka asked her, a gloved hand extended.
It took Stelle a second to realize she was referring to the violin still in her hands. She nodded, a small blush coating her cheeks when their hands brushed against each other.
Kafka only needed a few moments to look over the instrument. “You took good care of this for the few weeks that you’ve owned it.”
Stelle blinked. “How did you…?”
The violinist winked. “Who do you think gave you the discount? I wouldn’t do that with just anyone.”
Three seconds was all it took for Stelle to connect the dots. “Wait a minute, you’re the owner of the music store?”
Kafka flashed her an enchanting smile. “Want to swap? How about Vivaldi?”
“I… What season?”
“Winter.”
She could do that. An odd sort of excitement built within her. The knowledge of her finally having a proper duet with her on and off partner. Of playing on her most comfortable instrument.
It felt deeply intimate.
Stelle chanced an action, an uncharacteristic burst of courage paving the way through her hesitation. She took the gloved hand of Kafka, the one holding the Violin’s bow, and gave it a chaste kiss on the back of her hand. She looked back for a second, noting the small dusting of red on the woman’s pale cheeks, and sat down on the bench and began to play.
She started out fast and consistent, like the beginning of the season who shared the namesake of the song. The warmth of fall began to fade away until the core of winter struck hard, where the weather had yet to fully set in place. The pitch bounced from high and low, and Kafka recovered from the surprise just in time to place her chin upon the rest and pierced through the notes with a fierce finality.
“Cheater.” Kafka teased when the tempo slowed.
“You could have introduced yourself earlier.” Stelle shot back.
Another fast paced round of notes. The blizzard of winter picked up before it settled down, allowing conversation to resume.
“Admit it, you liked our little game.”
“I did.” Stelle struck her keys. Emotion flowed into her music. “I think I like you more.”
Kafka reciprocated equally with the passion in her notes. “I think I feel the same way.”
They were silent as they approached the climax. The only thing that mattered was the synchronization between the two. The way that their instruments responded to their beck and call and each of their music twisted and curled around the other’s, weaving into an elegant embroidery of sounds.
The song ended soon after. Stelle could feel the rush of happiness after an exhilarating performance supporting her next words.
“Do you want to get dinner sometime this week?” Stelle asked.
“I would like nothing more.” Kafka answered.
They were ushered out of the mall soon after, closing time had crept upon them without warning.
“Your violin could use some work though.” Kafka commented off-handedly.
Stelle frowned. “I’ve only been practicing for a few weeks.”
The maroon woman hummed. “Maybe you can come over to my place and get a bit of hands-on practice then.”
“Sure that would-” Stelle’s eyes widened as she realized the true meaning of her partner’s sentence halfway through her own.
Kafka laughed at her expression. “Maybe after a few dates then.”
“Y-You’re a tease.” Stelle accused.
The violinist winked. “Just paying back the favor from earlier.”