By D. Douglas Goodman

Walter played the piano every night before bed, or he didn’t sleep well. He and Gloria slept in separate rooms for two years now, but they still watched television together, after dinner but before the piano playing. They slept separately only because Gloria hated being chilly at night, hated the fan whipping around on high making her neck stiff, hated the window open with the indifference of winter seeping in. And although the cold also bothered Walter, he was willing to tolerate anything at Gloria’s expense.

Gloria, though, disliked change—like the piano playing, for instance. Walter used to play Sonata No. 3 from beginning to end, every night for thirty years. Then later, he played only three-fourths of the song, and Gloria was okay with only three-fourths as long as he played her favorite part, which was one-quarter the way through: play my favorite part. I know, Gloria, he would say. Later still, one night five years ago, Walter only played halfway through Sonata No. 3. The abrasive halt in song startled Gloria, but still she thanked Walter: thank you for playing my favorite part.

It was their anniversary two years ago when Walter stopped just before Gloria’s favorite part. She cried and hollered and begged him to continue on, but rather he decided to sleep in the den because he needed the fan on and the window open. Gloria protested and even crawled into bed with him during the night, but awoke to find window shut, fan off, Walter moved into the bedroom. He continued to play piano every night before bed, stopping just before Gloria’s favorite part, even the night of Valentine’s Day when Gloria wanted flowers but Walter forgot the date. That night, after Walter finished playing, he went to bed in the den. The sound of piano playing woke him, and he came out to find Gloria playing Sonata No. 3, beginning to end. She looked at him in his silk robe and told him to go back to bed; after fifty-two years of listening to Walter play every night, Gloria had learned the song: I can play my favorite part without you.

Walter walked back into the den but decided that it was much too cold to sleep in the den with the fan on and window open, and he instead recognized the warmth of the bedroom. Later, he laid in bed waiting for Gloria and enjoyed listening to Sonata No. 3 without playing.