Her conscious mind commanded one note while memory served up another, so she had to relearn all she’d learned and lost. Then one evening he’d come...home to Chopin’s Nocturnes and her smile was an impossibly radiant thing to behold. They moved to a house he had built north of the city, a large room overlooking the river below held her piano and she lived there, there in that room with her music for company. He remembered the first time it happened, the first time he heard her speaking in old. She was a leech, spending all my money when we were married. Now we'redivorced and she still wants my money. She isn't getting more. Sheshould be getting less. Wait...what's that?"-----------------------------Some say, "It was a warning!"Some say, "It was a sign!"I was standing right there. When it came down from the sky.The way it spoke to us. You felt it from inside. It said "It was upto us...up to us to decide. You've become violent, this keeper of thishost. We been watching you. When everything was set up, when the small crowd had gathered, when we sat side by side, singing, feeling, being, breathing the music, Mike forgot about all of his ambitions and just let his thoughts and emotions lead him the way. And he guided both me and the audience through his life, through the ups and the downs, using his own music, and sometimes the music of others. It was in truth a real musician’s version of memoirs, with notes and vibrations guiding us through the landscape of his. I woke to the opening of curtains the next morning, and Doctor Gethwynn’s beaming smiling face. ‘Good Morning Maggie,’ he said, ‘and congratulations on the birth of your son! I’ve just checked him over and once you’ve had a bit of rest, couple of days I’d say, you can go home!’ He raised my duvet and quickly checked over my parts and laying an absorbent pad back over them, grinned and nodded. ‘Thanks Doctor,’ I said, still trying to come to terms with where I was and what the fuck had happened.