Harry Christmas to You!

December 7

Harry sits in his Range Rover for a few minutes before he pulls the key out. He sighs and unfolds his lanky frame from the black car. He has the documents in his hand, which he has to go through with the headmaster to make sure the money from the auction will go where it's supposed to go. It's damn cold, and he wonders when the first snow will fall. The sky is obscured with gray clouds. Actually a cozy day, if one doesn't have to go out. He pulls open the door to the building, and the typical scent of a school wafts towards him. He can't describe this smell, but he doesn't like it. He hopes that the one teacher, Samantha, will not discover him. She is terribly attached, and he really has better things to do than to make dull conversation with her while she flirts and accentuates her very large breasts.

He hurries through the halls, so his coat billows behind him. Looking for the office of the headmaster, he hears guitar sounds. He gets closer to the sound until he clearly recognizes a melody. He knows the song. He even knows the singer who recorded the song personally. Harry stops and listens to see if he can hear a voice singing.

No. No voice. He continues on, passing your open classroom door. He peers inside. Now he knows where the guitar sounds are coming from. He stops and jogs back two small steps. His right hand on the door frame, he leans to look inside the classroom.

You sit on a table with your back to the door. Your right foot rests on a chair, and the other foot dangles to the music. You have the guitar on your lap and are looking at your fingers. It is a vintage guitar. Harry only sees the back of the guitar; it has sharp scratches and is worn out.

You're wearing your dungarees as always, the sleeves of your sweater are rolled up. Your ponytail falls over your back and your shoulders move rhythmically with the music. All eyes are pointed towards you, and the children look at you with shining eyes. His mouth twitches. You play the last chord and the children call: "Another song please!!!"

You sigh.

"Alright. One more," you smile. The children wildly yell out song titles. Harry would have liked to say a title too, but he only smiles, amused.

"Hey! Not all at once!" you say a little bit louder. "It's Maja's birthday today. How would it be if she chooses the song?" you ask the children. The children clap their little hands, and Maja says her favourite title. You knock your flat hand on your wooden guitar case. He hears you start to count.

"One... two... three.." Maja gets bright eyes and starts singing with her soft and sweet child's voice. He sees you in the window reflection. You open your mouth and start to sing the first verse. Your voice sounds sweet and tender, but powerful. He could listen to you forever. You strike up to the refrain.

"There she goes.
There she goes again.
Racing through my brain.
And I just can't contain
This feeling that remains."

He wonders how you can play the song by heart. How many times have you already played it? Harry wishes the song would never end. He'd like to sit down on the ground, looking up to you and listening to you like the children instead of overhearing you from the doorway. A child discovers him watching and waves her chubby little fingers.

You do not let yourself be distracted in the moment and continue to play, wondering who is standing at the door. But when several children start to wave, you turn around. There he is in his black coat. His hair hangs around his face, framing it softly. His right hand is on the door frame, and in his left hand he holds some papers. He tears his eyes away and turns to leave immediately, obviously embarrassed. You don't know if you should laugh or cry.