The Piano Has Been Drinking
by Marginalia

Words are slipping away, slipping around him, slipping in and out of other languages, losing him before translation and finding him after.

He signs to the bartender for another, because if he tries to talk he'll ask for cigarettes for the telephone and he knows that doesn't make sense no matter how much the piano has been drinking.

He signals for another, then curls his fingers around the empty glass, caressing it with his thumb. The barstool burns cold and his world is empty.

He can't find Daniel with a Geiger counter and the piano has been drinking

Not him.