The Flute

You're at the center of attention. Everyone's watching.
Nervously, you begin to play, fearful of the disapproval and criticism as you hold the flute with your very hands.

A glace up, and you see all eyes have had contact with you the whole time. A sweat breaks out.
You notice the sharps and flats that aren't supposed to flow in the melodic atmosphere, but you continue playing anyways, staying wary.

Suddenly, you realize those penetrating glares out there aren't what you think. They're wide open, slightly twinkling from the tears. You squint, and look down. Slowly, but surely, the letter "u" widens and a smile takes shape.

Deep inside the audience was something you failed to see. Admiration and awe was always there since the moment the crowd gathered. "But how?" you ask, it never happened before. You think. Maybe it's just this group of people today. They smile, they stand and offer their presence because--oh, that's it!

Others have stood in front of you before, not necessarily always grinning. You don't know if they like the squeaking or soft tone from your flute. However, you're sure that the very same admiration here now was there last time. Proof? Their stationary presence indicates their interest.

Just because things don't appear a way doesn't mean it's like that.

With a burst of confidence, you stand up higher--flute still in hand--and play louder.