Off Key(Lily Ada Fischer) I’ve been looking for a friend. I found this friend once before, but I think I’ve forgotten her.
I think she’s only been gone for only a little while though. Her piano is still here, after all.
Pianos are nice. Their sound is so purple, so tangible. Like see-through ripples in the air, they float through people. They float through all sadness, and sinks it to a place where it can’t hurt you. So of course, the best thing you could have is a purple piano.
The problem is that nobody here seems to know what purple is.
Maybe I’ve forgotten what purple looks like. Or maybe everyone else has forgotten what purple looks like. Maybe there never was a purple or this person I call friend. Anyways, I’ll go look for them now. I’ll tell you if I find them. Even though I think you might be me. It doesn’t matter if you are. I like you; you listen pretty well.
The reason I’ll go look for them now, is because purple and my friend are both really important. If I had just forgotten one of those two, I might be persuaded to think that I forgot about them, but now both of them are gone, I know that something is wrong.

It’s not like I didn’t try looking for them before this. I’ve asked everybody if they know purple or my friend. Whether it’s those people who lay around at the hospital, the ladies who give you food and coins at the supermarket, or the people who eat at the restaurants, the people who ask me questions in the clinic, they all say that they don’t know her. They also say they don’t know what purple is.
The people in the clinic don’t help me much. Then again, I don’t remember a lot of what they say. I’m sure the people there are nice, but I don’t like going to the clinic. I’d be happy to if they stopped saying that this friend never existed. I’d be happy to go if they told me purple was real. I’ve told them this before, but they don’t listen.
I’m sorry if I bored you. You were gone for a while, I think. If you weren’t then I’m sorry for not giving you much attention.
It’s getting a bit late. The sky is pretty when it’s late. Or maybe if it’s early. I don’t think there’s a difference. I’m looking for pianos at the moment. Purple likes pianos. So maybe I can find purple near one. I know where the pianos are. There’s one at the shop.
I usually go by car with dad after we go to the clinic. Usually it isn’t closed. Now it is.
Maybe I shouldn’t go in anyway. Or maybe I should do that when I really don’t have a choice. Ok then. I’ll go to the bus station first. My friend liked it there. She liked watching the people there. I like it too. There are club invite posters that ask people to go to their band. People can just put their name and phone number on the list and they can go to play piano with them. Dad explained it to me.
I’d like to put my name there. Maybe I will after I finish looking for purple and my friend.
There is only one band at the moment. There is also only one name on the list.
I look closer at this name. Melody. What a nice name. What a purple name. That’s her! That has to be her! I look around but there’s nobody on the road who I could borrow a phone from and mine is at home, so I run to the supermarket, because I know there are people inside. One of the ladies at the counter who usually gives mom change gives me her phone. Maybe this means I get to buy things for mom now. I call up the number, and wait.
“hello?” Melody says. “Melody! Melody! I finally found you! Where have you been? Is purple with you?” There is a pause. I think the pause is over but then there is more pause. “Excuse me who is this?”
I want to cry. I want to but I can’t. Then I check the number. I don’t want to cry anymore. It was the wrong number. I hang up and call the right one. It rings. It rings more. It rings an eternity, but no one picks up. Then I’m asked to leave a message. Of course, I do.
“Melody! It’s me melody! I’m so sorry for forgetting you! I want to be friends again. I miss you…Please, meet me at the bus station next Friday. I’ll be there, and I’ll remember you, I promise…” I’m done with my message. This time I did cry.

Now it’s next Friday. Or maybe it’s last Friday. I don’t know, but that doesn’t matter. I’m writing many copies of this. One for myself, and the other ones are for Melody. The other Melody. I’m putting this up on anywhere I can think of so that the other Melody might see it. I’m also putting it on my wall. I’m putting it there, because a few nights ago I got a phone recording from myself asking to speak to melody. I know where my friend is now. I also know where purple is. It never really went anywhere. Purple is in my piano. In Melodies piano. I guess I was just playing a bit off key.
I’m writing this in case someday I forget that I’m melody again, but also because I’m sorry for hanging up on the other melody. Sorry.

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