Centina Pentina
Published in

Centina Pentina

Last Slice of Life

How soon we become memories

I remember her long-fingered hands on the piano, swans undulating their necks, one with the music, entrancing. Lifting them now, limp, rigid, hunched in a fearful clench, I shuddered. This is death. At least, if she died near her grand piano that would have seemed more plausible. Passion would not have been out of place there—a crime of passion.

--

--

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Georgiana Petec

Words, my trusted allies, written when you couldn’t be spoken, now for other voices to read you— I welcome you here. https://georgianapetec.com/