It's one of those nights. One of those eerie nights where a windstorm suddenly blows in quickly and makes the trees dance. It's too hot to shut out the windows, so instead the wind breezes though the house, accompanied by the wind chimes. They mingle with the sounds of the rickety fan which has seen at least thirty-five years of use.
It's one of those nights where you just can't help but weave stories and listen to classical music. I should be in bed by now, snuggled up with Emma by Jane Austin.... But Chopin holds me captive.
It's one of those nights where, on accident, when first writing the word 'night,' you accidentally write the word 'knight' instead, because the wind mixed with classical piano mixed with the two romantic movies you watched tonight is putting you in a mystical mood.
Maybe, just maybe, if you write the word 'knight' and wish hard enough.... he might come to you, high on his white horse, and take you far away to a castle, where you will live together forever.
I break free. Chopin shan't shackle me any longer.
Farewell and goodnight.