Time came and went, and before I knew it, the concert was upon us. It was only a week between the so-called tournament, and the actual event, so it wasn't a great length of time or anything. However, I felt the growing anxiety building in me until that day came. I knew it wasn't a "date," but that didn't calm the growing knot I felt in the pit of my stomach. I tried to use logic to tap it down, saying that I was only going to a concert with a friend, AS a friend. But when has logic ever worked in matters strictly outside the realm of logic? In the end, I was forced to use the Box Breathing technique my therapist had taught me to handle my anxiety. It worked to an extent, enough to get me out the door and ultimately to the Imperial Manifest.

This was what you would call a formal attire event, at least I believe it was. I wasn't as though I had researched it or anything. As an engineer, there were occasions when formal attire was appropriate, so I had a few suits I could tap into. My father always said a man should have at least one suit, but if not for work, I can't say that I would have heeded that advice.

Still, the fact that I was dressing up for this event only heightened my anxiety. Somewhere in my subconscious, it must have reinforced the idea that this was a special event. An event where I would be accompanying a rather fetching lady who had been occupying a growing portion of my mental space over the last week. I could feel the knot getting pulled tighter.

I arrived at the event early. Ripley had invited me backstage to see how things got set up. Not sure what there was to see really. If it was a rock concert, one could appreciate the value of being invited backstage. Meeting the band was usually a story that would be told whenever the opportunity arose, and more often, when it hadn't. Also, seeing them set up the pyrotechnics might be interesting for the nerdier among us—myself included. However, this wasn't a rock concert, and I already knew who would be performing, so I couldn't see much value in it, but Ripley was rather insistent.

"There she is..." Ripley pointed to the grand piano being hoisted into the hall.

"Why are they bringing in a piano?" I asked, "Don't they have one here already?"

He let out a dramatic exhale, "Seth... Seth... Seth... You just don't understand." He had a tired but bemused expression on his face as he dropped his hand on my shoulder as though passing on sage knowledge. "The bond between musician and instrument is sacred! To play another piano, especially on such an important occasion as this? Well... That would be tantamount to cheating on your wife! On her birthday!" He sounded pretty adamant.

"..." I'm pretty sure there have been plenty of people who have done just that. But the point was well taken. I've known coworkers who refused to use tools other than the ones they had first acquired in their early years and would go to extensive lengths to safeguard them. Of course, they tended to be a bit eccentric.

"Still, why are they bringing it in through the ceiling?"

"Can you think of a better way?" As it turned out, I couldn't. I assumed it was possible to bring it in through the front door. To an engineer, most things were possible with enough time and thought. But this definitely seemed easier, assuming you had a crane, which they did, and an opening ceiling, which was also present. Looking at it now, it seemed like this might be something of a routine procedure for them.

"Seth! Ripley!" We turned our heads to find Roa approaching, waving a hand in greeting. She was looking rather splendid in a black dress, with a slim profile. It went down to just above the knees. It showed off some of her curves while still remaining classy. Inside I let out a sigh of relief. I was worried she would come in something more casual, and I would look like a try-hard.

"Ah, look who has finally arrived," Ripley replied

"What? It's still early." At her quip, Ripley gave her a stare that I couldn't quite comprehend. She let out an uneasy laugh. "Hehe, well I'm here now."

"That you are, that you are. Well, I have some important things I need to attend to before the performance. Feel free to take a look around. If I don't see you before the concert, enjoy yourselves." Before he departed, he gave a knowing smile and elbow jab to the ribs, that might have seemed innocent enough to an outside observer but had the distinct implication of “go make a move, buddy” to me. Would that guy ever give up?

Still, if ever there was a time to make a move, this was it. The stars couldn't align more than this. Still, I couldn't see it happening, but this would be the best shot I would ever get. Should I take it? I could feel the anxiety building, growing to levels seldom reached. I was trying Box Breathing, but it wasn't really working.

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"Why don't we take a look around, this is a world-famous concert hall after all." This invitation broke the awkwardness of me just standing there dumb-struck. It wasn't hard to accept the offer. As we walked around the stage a bit, perhaps trading a few statements of no real significance, I tried to sort out my intentions, was I going to make an attempt, or let the opportunity slip by?

Why should I stick my neck out? What’s the best that could possibly happen? Well, that was obvious, things could work out. Before I knew it, we could have been going steady for over 6 months, with nothing but blue skies ahead. But that was nearly an impossibility, right? She was clearly out of my league, not to mention I wasn't exactly skilled when it came to women... I guess I have no one to blame other than myself on that latter point. Still, it didn't change the fact that I was looking at a high probability of failure in spectacular form. Best to just play it safe.

And I might have left it at that if the words of my therapist hadn't entered my head at that time. "Sometimes you have to face the dragon even if it seems like an impossible proposition. It might seem pointless, foolish even. Perhaps in some ways, it is. You could get burned, and burned badly. But you know what? You will live to fight another day, you will lick your wounds, learn from your mistakes, and grow stronger than before. And who knows, you might even find that, to your surprise, you can slay the dragon."

Those words lit a flame in my heart, and with them still ringing in my mind, I steeled my resolve. I would breach the barrier of monotonous stage commentary and begin steering the conversation in a more meaningful direction. From there I could perhaps begin to make my intentions known. I wasn't sure how that would go, but I was going to stand before the dragon, knees shaking, voice breaking, but standing, nonetheless. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out...

"Roa? Roa Lordonhal?"

"Mitch? Mitch Mitchelson? From med school?" Roa's surprise was evident.

Who is this bloke? Sweeping in to steal my kill? I had already had dibs on this dragon, you can't just roll in here and make the final attack after I have softened her up! That's just common courtesy! (Perhaps I'm giving myself too much credit for the "softening up" part, but still!)

"Wow, it is you! I haven't seen you since... well med school."

"Yeah, how about those finals? They were something else, weren't they? How have you been? How did your residency go?"

"Residency was no joke, but I got through just fine. I take it you made it through the crucible as well?"

"Of course," She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder, seeming to indicate "offense" that he would even raise doubts, "Who do you take me for, one of those milk drinkers."

"No, no, I just..." the conversation continued.

I can't say I got the milk drinker reference, but it was clear that those two had immediately hit it off. This Mitch Mitchelson—what kind of name is that—had just swaggered in here and extinguished the flame in my heart with a bucket of the most frigid ice water this side of the freezing point. I doubted that it would ever be possible to rekindle it again. This was clearly the universe telling me to know my place. Well, message received!

I was walking away, having resigned myself to what now seemed to be the logical outcome, when I heard it. The sound of cables snapping. I directed my attention to the source of the sound. It was coming from directly above Roa and Mitch, and oddly enough, they didn't seem to hear it—they must have been really enraptured with each other. I began to call out to them while making my way to them to be better heard when I heard the final snap.

Instinctively, I sprinted towards them. I don't know what animated me to move as such without hesitation. One might be able to conjure up any number of motivators: Infatuation with Roa, not understanding the present danger, personal heroism, pulling a Sydney Carton... Who's to say, but if you are leaning towards personal heroism, you might be giving me too much credit.

Regardless of the motivating factor, I charged. "Look out!" I yelled. It was only then that they seemed to realize that they were in peril, but were seemingly unable to move, frozen like deer in headlights. As I reached them, I gave them a double-armed... Tackle? Shove? Stumble? Whatever it was, it wasn't very graceful, but it got the job done, they were moved out of the AOE. I, however, was not. I turned up just in time to catch sight of the item that fell on me.

That's right... A piano had fallen on me. A concert... grand... piano... FELL ON ME! And let me tell you, Bugs Bunny couldn't have arranged it better himself. Well, I surely would never live this down, I thought. I would be forever known as Daffy Duck, or Wile E Coyote, though I'm not sure if the latter had ever had a piano fall on him... but I digress.

The question was, where was I now? The hospital made the most sense. I couldn't really move my body, and my eyes didn't seem to work. Seemed to be symptoms in alignment with having a piano dropped on you. That being said, I didn't feel as though I was in any pain. On the contrary, I felt better than I had in years! They must have been pumping me full of the good stuff. I could only hope I wouldn't get addicted.

After coming to this conclusion, I suddenly felt very sleepy. I let myself drift off to sleep.