My fingers trembled as I straightened them out to resolve the final cadence. “That was a D flat,” chimed the voice behind me. My arms jolted, immediately trying to replay the ending once again, only to be stopped by the voice yet again – “Don’t practise to solidify your mistakes.” A deep breath in. A slow and steady breath out. I raised my hand one more time. “Why did you choose this piece?”
I turned around on the stool to face my teacher, yet my gaze was planted firmly on his feet. My chest started throbbing, and my mouth went dry. “Your interpretation was devoid of any sense of longing,” he added, “it is supposed to be a love dream.” His beige trousers folded perfectly over his brightly polished leather shoes. “You should play what you feel, but it is meaningless if you force an emotion onto yourself.” I could feel his gaze boring through my face. I crossed my legs, trying to avoid exposing how vulnerable I felt. A deep sigh resounded the room, followed by him bracing his feet to get up. I sneaked a quick glance up at him as he was distracted. He was thin and tall, with his dark tousled hair covering most of his forehead. His white polo shirt hung loose from his slender arms, which gripped his knees purposefully as he pushed himself up, with a serious, neutral look worn on his lean face. I hastily turned my eyes back down on his feet, which were now walking swiftly towards me.