Her music hit me first. I was vacuuming the downstairs hallway – what seemed a pointless task to me, seeing as how nobody would be in here until the fall session started – and suddenly I heard this sound, the most beautiful thing to have ever reached my ears as it floated gently through the air over the noise of the machine in my hand.

Mesmerized, I left the vacuum running and wandered the hall, trying to follow the trail left behind from the notes, like glittering dust at the end of a comet. I found her, finally, in room 117, tucked into a back corner, a place I had already cleaned, though I was not agitated by the thought in the least.

With her back facing me, I watched her through the tiny window, a vertical rectangle with thin – but no less annoying – black lines all down it, as she played the piano. I had never heard something so… magical in all my life. It was like the notes were literally coming from her, not the piano, her body moving along with the music so seamlessly. Abruptly she stopped, the encroaching silence choking me as I flung my back against the wall and out of her view. My heart was beating like crazy; I could feel it travel through my back to the wall and on into my temple.

She began playing again, and I let her sweet melody soak into my veins before forcing myself back to the vacuum. She was gone by the time I had finished, but no matter where I went or what I did, her music followed me, even haunting my dreams.

Love at first sight, or sound, you could say. But this is not a love story, not truly. Love and passion, both of these things surely; yet it is more a story of obsession, and murder.