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Chapter 19

Maren Shallow
As far as Anthony was concerned, all of that was just meaningless behavior—low-brow entertainment people cooked up to burn off hormones and restless energy they had nowhere else to put.

After doing any of it, people didn't actually come away feeling fulfilled. If anything, they were left with a nagging sense of having wasted their time.

At its core, it all came down to people's lives being too empty—but since the busy hours of the day never really belonged to them, it was only late at night, l
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  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 30

    That particular day at lunch, Celeste had sent a message ahead of time to let him know she'd be running a little late.Anthony hadn't thought much of it. As usual, he made his way to the old, weathered upright piano and settled in to practice the new piece Celeste had assigned him.According to Celeste, someone with a bit of natural aptitude could reach an amateur advanced level with two or three years of steady practice.Anthony, meanwhile, had reached a professional-level standard in just two months.He didn't really feel much about that fact one way or another. With no other point of reference to compare himself to, he could only measure his own progress against Celeste's playing, and the gap between the two of them still felt impossibly vast.Even so, compared to how he'd played back when he'd first started, the progress he'd made since then was nothing short of enormous.At the very least, he could now tell the difference in tuning between different pianos.Take the one he

  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 29

    Anthony had no idea what he'd just pulled off was actually something remarkable.A complete beginner, someone who couldn't even read sheet music, had reproduced an entry-level intermediate piece almost note for note, relying purely on memory and an uncannily precise ear.If he'd told anyone, no one would have believed him.Right now, Anthony simply figured he must be one of those people with no real talent for it, and decided he'd never bother trying again.But just as he closed the lid and moved to push the bench back into place, a cool, clipped voice suddenly sounded behind him. "Is this your first time touching a piano?"Anthony's body went rigid, and cold sweat broke out instantly.He hadn't expected, in a million years, that Celeste would choose this exact moment to walk back into the room.Worse, she'd apparently just watched his clumsy little performance from start to finish.Anthony turned around slowly and bowed his head deeply. "Sorry, I...""Answer the question."C

  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 28

    The room itself was fairly tidy, though several rows of old, discarded desks and chairs had been stacked along the walls, and a battered metal bookcase sat in one corner.Aside from that, the center of the room was mostly bare, except for two pianos set up one behind the other.One of them was clearly expensive—the kind of grand piano you'd expect to see at some lavish gala—its lid stamped with the name "Bösendorfer" in gold lettering, looking almost comically out of place against the shabby classroom around it.The other was an ordinary upright, the ubiquitous kind you'd find in any music room, clearly not used much, its bench dusted with a light layer of grime.Celeste always played the expensive grand piano. As for the upright, it was probably something left behind from whatever music program the school used to run.Ashwood High had never had a proper music curriculum to begin with—even the school's one music teacher had long since been reassigned to work part-time as a librari

  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 27

    "So why has nobody ever actually joined the piano club, then?"Anthony asked the question quietly, voicing what he'd been wondering.Marcus clicked his tongue. "Word is, she can't stand men. Every guy who's ever handed in an application form hoping to get closer to her looks has gotten absolutely destroyed for it—some of them even started crying on the spot, if the stories are true.""Impressive.""You thinking about switching your affections over to Celeste, trying to win back some dignity after what Ivy did to you? Careful there, man, don't say I didn't warn you.""Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."Even so, the very next day, Anthony seemed to have completely forgotten Marcus's warning. Come lunchtime, he showed up right on schedule in the stairwell of the old campus wing.He'd been kept up half the night before, tormented by headaches, and hadn't slept well at all—his energy had been steadily draining away ever since. After thinking it over, he realized the old campus wing at

  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 26

    The music drifted through the air, clear and flowing like a gentle stream, filling the space with a soothing, effortless calm.Anthony blinked, then turned his head to look.In a classroom off in the distance, he could just make out the delicate profile of a girl, her black hair falling over her shoulders, her whole body swaying gently to the rhythm, completely absorbed in the music.Anthony didn't know much about musical instruments. After his mother and sister had left, and with his father hauled off to prison for murder not long after, simply staying alive had already taken everything he had—there'd been no room left over for hobbies.Still, drawing on what little life experience he did have, he could tell the crisp, ringing sound belonged to a piano. As for the piece itself, he vaguely recalled hearing it played over the school's lunchtime broadcast before—something called "Pathétique," a Beethoven composition, if he remembered right.With nothing better to do at the moment, A

  • The Man Who Forgot How to Feel   Chapter 25

    There was a hollow, almost fractured feeling to it, like something inside him was on the verge of breaking apart completely.Anthony had a feeling that if he didn't do something soon, he was going to fall apart entirely.After all, the doctors had warned him, after that car accident freshman year, that the damage to his frontal lobe could seriously affect his ability to generate and regulate emotions if he didn't take proper care of himself.To keep that fear from becoming reality, Anthony had thrown himself, almost frantically, into finding something—anything—to occupy his mind during that stretch of time.It was an attempt to distract himself, to slow down however fast his emotions and thoughts were unraveling.He'd tried soccer. Basketball. Running. Even video games, more than once.None of it had done a thing to stop the slow collapse happening inside him.He could feel himself growing colder, more detached, by the day. All those vivid, colorful emotions seemed to be melting

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