Frustrated, she slammed her fingers a few random times on the keyboard before turning around to face him. The sour notes startled him out of his daze, and he glanced up from his guitar to meet her gaze.
“What does it sound like to you?” she asked.
He thought for a minute. Teardrops falling? No. Chimes in the wind? No.
“Play it again,” he requested.
She took a deep breath, and turned to face her challenge again. He watched her for a moment as her fingers delicately danced from key to key. Then it got him. It reminded him of a childhood memory experienced by both that they had recently shared with each other.
Turning back to his own chords he answered, “It sounds like rain slipping down the glass window on a gray cloudy day.”