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His eyes flickered across the room to the piano. As devastated as the saloon seemed to be, the piano still looked mostly intact. There was debris on top, but that didn't mean that the insides of the piano couldn't still work. It was tempting, as irrational as it seemed, to just sit down and play a tune.

Classical music probably wouldn't cut it. The Entertainer, maybe. Joplin. Ragtime. That was a later time period, but it was as close to Western music as he could remember.

Just sitting there, playing ragtime music, miles away from home, while his classmates died around him. Eventually, someone would come in, put a bullet in his brain.

The reverie broke. Sam shook his head slightly, shifting his vision back to the swinging doors of the saloon. The shotgun felt heavy in his hands.
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Program V3 Prologue:
Sylvia Veneski -- F32 -- Clothes Hanger -- Alive -- Someday We Won't Remember This

Auld Lang Syne
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While Rome Burns · The Saloon
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