Middle C

I walked onto the stage in my best dress. There were probably fifteen adoring parents in the audience, but to me it seemed that thousands filled the darkened hall. My long hair was bobby-pinned in a severe bun and lacquered with hairspray. I sat on the rigid piano bench, and my hands moved mechanically across the keyboard.
With just one note remaining, my hands abruptly stopped. The hall was still. I just sat there, stunned. Finally, an inner voice told me that it no longer mattered. “Just hit any key,” it said, “and you can get off of this stage.”
Mom later told me that it was the right note.