I Took Care of My Elderly Neighbor – After She Died, the Police Knocked on My Door, and When I Learned Why, My Knees Buckled

and looked at the piano. On the music stand was a piece of sheet music. Handwritten in Robert’s cursive script.

The title at the top read: “For My Daisy.”

I picked it up. The music was beautiful. Complex. And carefully notated.

But it stopped halfway through the second page.

The rest was blank. He’d run out of time.

It stopped halfway through the second continue reading …