“It says Beethoven played it.”
“In 200 years it will say I played it.”
“Please sir, do not touch the piano.” Neither of them had noticed the guard.
“Do you know who I am?” Alex asked, striking the same pose he used for The Rolling Stone Magazine in ‘83.
“Sir, you could be The Maestro himself, don’t touch the piano.” The guard was looking less than friendly.
“Oh come on, man, you know, don’t you? Six gold records?”
“Alex, you sound pathetic,” Babs said with a giggle.
“A star at 20, now they don’t know me. Is any music immortal?”
Word count = 100