The Life of a Music Major

Practice Room Blues

It was Friday.

I had been practicing (crying) in the practice room at the end of the hall for about 4 and a half hours. It was nearly 5 o'clock. The breakup was really taking its toll.

There was a light knock and the door opened.

He stood in the doorway.

He slowly became blurry as the tears started to fall down my makeupless cheeks. I heard the door softly click closed and him step closer. Again I looked up at him, but there was sadness on his face. At first it was just a tear, but more began to fall as we looked at each other.

He opened his arms and the foot of space between us closed quickly as I buried my face into his chest.

I couldn't tell you how long we stood there. Hugging. Crying. When we both finally stopped, I looked up at his still teary eyes.

"She broke up with me."

When he started to cry again, he sunk slowly to the floor, taking me with him. His head rested on my chest while he hugged me tightly around the waist.

"It's okay. He broke up with me, too."