Margot’s fingers work faster than her mind, her pick jumping from string to string, her left hand shifting to form the notes. She loves her mandolin. She’s never been very good with words, so she expresses her emotions through her music.

Today is depressing, the kind of day that makes you not want to get out of bed. The sky is gray, like a fresh sheet of paper. It’s in the seventies, and damp, but there are no birds chirping, no breeze to rustle the deep green midsummer leaves. Margot resents these days. She is generally an optimistic person, and prefers blue skies and wind. So she represents that in her music. She plays quick arpeggios, representing the breeze. Her notes jump melodiously, creating cheer in the empty day.

She closes her eyes and imagines her happy place, not noticing her melody drifting through her curtains and out her open window.

***

Elliott’s day was supposed to be good. He was planning to meet up with a friend he hadn’t seen in years, get ice cream, go to the movies, and camp out in the woods. 

Instead, his mother ended up in the Emergency Room and he was forced to cancel his plans. Now he’s walking to the hospital, wondering so many things that his brain feels shattered.

But, when he passes a red brick house on Summer Street, he hears a mandolin playing a song he’s never heard before. The music reminds him of when times were good. The arpeggios and dancey notes remind him of laughter and joy.

He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, letting the music suck him into a happy trance. It’s what his mother would want him to do.

When he comes out of his fervor, he remembers another thing his mother always did. Thanked people. Every time someone did anything nice for her, they would always find it worthwhile. People loved his mother. And so he fishes in his pocket for any spare paper and a pen to thank the creator of such music, but to no avail. He decides to just thank her himself. Her house is right here. 

After all, it’s what his mother would have done.

***

Liz rushes down Summer Street, scraping the soles of her new high heels on the pavement in her hurry. She hates this job that makes her live this life, but she needs the money. 

Just then, she hears a joyful melody seeping out of a window of a red brick house. The melody triggers a smile. Happy feels foreign to her. But the mandolin is forcing her to remember. She relaxes. It doesn’t have to be this way. 

The music tells her that things can be better. She feels like she’s changed the world with her self-discovery, and in her elation, she runs up to the porch of the house, ready to share her thanks. To her surprise, she finds a young man already there, having just rung the bell.

***

Margot finishes the song with a flourish, ready to close her eyes and relax before maybe taking a walk, when her doorbell rings. She nimbly crosses the room to open it, and finds a young man and a smiling but flustered-looking young woman standing there.

“Your music,” the young man says. Despite him only saying those two words, they all understand.

A blank day can be turned into a colorful day. Sadness, anger, and frustration can be turned into happiness, peace, and relief.

With music.