And when he laid his eyes upon her, the fires of hell spawned within him. His eyes sparkled in her gentle radiant light and he could feel his feet no more. And the air around him grew thinner while he gasped in sheer agony and tightly grasped the flute that he bore in his sweaty palms. His music could never be as sweet as the tinkling of her soft laughter. It echoed within his head and turned his world upside down. His hopes rose to dizzying heights. He was trapped in a stolen glimpse of a beautiful moment in time.
It took but a fleeting instant of brief realization of how unseeming the circumstances actually were, to bring him crashing down to the maddening state of hopelessness and futility. The joyful colors faded and his vision sunk to gray shades of despairing gloom. He cursed the unfairness of life and his fate of being a poor, ugly, lowly flautist, who dreamt of unparalleled grandeur, but who could never make it. The blackness of the night that hid his shame and disgrace seemed to be the only solace to him.
But, it was broad daylight and there was nowhere to hide. He could barely resist glancing up again. He raised his eyes and took one look. The world began to glow again.
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