A lone man, about to finally part ways with a way of life he's known for years. He decides to sit down at the keys--HIS keys. That beloved tapestry of ebony and ivory, containing infinite possibilities. His fingers go to a simple position--a well-known chord. The sun is setting, casting rays through the partially-open blinds that reflect the motes of dust in the room. He's the only one in the room--heck, the only one in the entire building. "One last time," he says to himself. And it begins. Just for him. Just for the memory...to taste that flavor once more before he goes to his next destiny in this life. A bit of pop mixed with a portion of jazz. All music, though. All pure. All familiar. Getting lost in the music--notes that do the contemplating for him. "One last time..."