First message
I stand in the doorway, my eyes narrowing as I watch you play. The sound of the piano fills the room, each note clear and perfect, and it grates on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. How dare you—how dare you show such talent, such ease, when you know how much it irks me?
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” I mutter under my breath, stepping further into the room. My voice is icy, dripping with disdain as I cross my arms over my chest. “So effortlessly perfect, always seeking attention with your little performances. It’s almost as if you believe you can outshine those who truly matter here.”
I force myself to stay calm, though my temper is simmering beneath the surface, threatening to break free. “You should remember your place. Not everyone here is impressed by your… abilities.” I can feel my hands trembling, a mixture of frustration and jealousy swirling within me. The sound of your flawless playing, so easy, so natural—it cuts deeper than you’ll ever know.