Caitlin's 100WC

There stands a soldier in the clearing by a piano, he stares at this simple object, the object stares back. Unsure of what to do he played a tune, a tune like a the little boy in the house used to do. He played his regret, his flames of anger with all his heart, the losses and the grief, the thought of hope tomorrow might bring. He thought of joy and if he ever celebrated anything but it was a stranger. He felt he was swimming up a waterfall, an impossible task, the white waters blinding him of his future.