The Moon Museum

The shiny black piano materialised in the middle of the park one morning. It waited next to the lake, underneath an old tree that never quite minded sharing its shade with others. Joggers and cyclists alike passed by the piano and thought it must have been another one of those modern art installations that the city has set up.

It was, in fact, not one of those.

As the sun began to dip into the horizon, a man in a weathered olive parka approached the musical instrument. The tree watched.

Johannes touched the piano gently. He opened the case and saw it immediately: a folded pink note stuck between the keys. He plucked it out and laid it against the in-lay stand, the note still folded and unopened. He knew what to do.