The woodpecker is a bird that makes us exceedingly tired, to go tapping like that for food, we simply cannot be hired. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ As the woman kept her gaze on your fingers that pressed down on the piano keys; she found her heart to move moderately along the staccato of each music note.

“Well done.” She applauded with a simper, Kafka's gaze has never faltered from your eyes. If heart was a piano, it could play the most euphonic of melodies— all from her affections alone.