Sad and Silly Humans by K.S. Trenten
The human dropped her glove. She didn’t think about it. She was too eager to get out of the concert hall where everyone was listening to the pianist. Everyone was admiring her. Everyone was looking at her glossy hair, swept up at the top of her head, and her slender brown fingers as they touched the keys with such assured gentleness.
The way they’d once touched the dalmatian’s human. The dalmatian didn’t understand why the pianist and her human were no longer speaking to each other. She only knew that her human was sad.
The dalmatian trotted over to the glove and picked it up in her mouth.
She scampered back towards the piano. There were murmurs of shock among the gathering of humans to find a dog among them. The pianist was not one of them. She stopped playing and turned towards the dalmatian.
“Smithsonian, why are you here?” the pianist asked.
Yes, Smithsonian was the dalmatian’s name. Or it was how her human chose to call her. Once it had been some place where her human and the pianist had met, long before the dalmatian had acquired her human. Smithsonian wagged her tail in response.
Anxiety and hope filled the pianist’s voice, as she knelt down beside the dog. “Is Jane with you?”
Smithsonian dropped the glove in front of the pianist. The pianist picked it up with fingers that trembled. She smelled of yearning.
At that moment, Smithsonian’s human returned to the concert hall. She stopped and stared at the pianist. She played with the remaining glove on her left hand.
The pianist looked up at Smithsonian’s human with shining eyes. She rose slowly to her feet and extended the glove to Jane.
Jane took a hesitant step forward. She reached out her hand to accept the offering.
Their fingers touched. Jane and the pianist simply stared at each other, unable to move.
Smithsonian’s tail thumped against the ground. Humans were so silly.