Photo by Kedibone Isaac Makhumisane on Unsplash
hopping from key to key, their fluffy tails thumping the ivories. They don’t have the reach for Rocket Man so I joined in and we played Elton’s entire repertoire from Lion King to Crocodile Rock, and when Candle in the Wind’s final note was struck, there wasn’t a dry eye in the craftsman two-story. As we clasped paw to paw to hand, I might have pinched a mite too hard and in retaliation, the rodent chomped clean through my thumbnail. Blood spurted like a dollar-store squirt gun — I fainted. The tree rats fled the scene. And that’s why I don’t play the piano.
T.L. Tomljanovic dabbles in drabbles, micro, and flash fiction writing from the greater Vancouver area in Canada. Her recent work has appeared in The Woolf, Westerly Magazine, and the Hooghly Review. Find her on Blue Sky @tomljanovic.bsky.social.
