“Dad, time to get rid of this old piece of junk,” son looked contemptuously at the old piano his father was so engrossed in playing his music on, “look plants growing out of it; why not let me gift you a new one this birthday?”
“Son, your mother used to sit there, when I made music on this old piece every morning,” father smiled wryly and said, “ I promised her that I shall continue playing after she is gone; I still see her nodding, when I play; she may not like a new piano and leave me for good.”
Word Count: 98
Photo Prompt : Anshu Bhojanagrawla
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