wildehacked:

okay you wanna know something that makes me Feel a Feeling? 

MIRANDA: *is playing a melody on a very out of tune piano* 
ME: HOW MANY SONGS DO YOU KNOW, MIRANDA. HOW ARE YOU CORRECTING THIS IN YOUR HEAD AS YOU PLAY. IN LONDON, DID YOU DEMUR FROM PLAYING BECAUSE YOU CONSIDERED YOURSELF AN INDIFFERENT PLAYER, BUT AN AVID LISTENER? ARE YOUR SONGS NOT JUST TEN YEARS OUT OF DATE BUT TWENTY YEARS OUT OF DATE? ARE YOU CALLING BACK ON THE MEMORIES YOU HAD OF PLAYING IN THE SCHOOL ROOM? DO YOU REGRET NOT LEARNING THE MORE COMPLEX ARRANGEMENTS NOW, WHEN YOUR LIFE IS UTTERLY WITHOUT MUSIC EXCEPT FOR WHAT YOU CAN BRING TO LIFE ON THIS WARPED HALF-DEAD INSTRUMENT, EXCEPT FOR THE THINGS JAMES HUMS IN YOUR GARDEN DURING THE RARE DAYS WHEN HE IS HOME AND YOURS AND YOU CAN PUT HIM TO WORK WITH THE LABOR YOU CAN’T MANAGE ALONE. DO YOU RECONSTRUCT THE OPERAS YOU HEARD WITH THOMAS AT YOUR SIDE WHILE YOU LIE ALONE IN YOUR BED, MIRANDA, DO YOU SING SOFTLY TO YOURSELF IN THE SWELTERING NIGHT.
 FLINT: *opens the door* 
MIRANDA: *looks at him, unsmiling* 
FLINT: *is bloodied and laid bare* 
MIRANDA: Take off your boots. I’ll boil some water. 
FLINT: *literally collapses on the threshold, closing his eyes in sheer exhaustion and sheer relief* 
ME: *wailing softly*