In the middle of the great hall of the train station stood an old, battered piano with a hand-painted sign on top: "Please play." During the morning rush, thousands of commuters streamed past it without so much as a glance. Then a small boy clambered onto the stool and began to pick out a simple tune with one finger. A few people smiled, but nobody stopped.
Then a woman in a long coat put down her bag and sat beside him. She began to play a slow, beautiful piece, and gradually the clatter of the station seemed to fade. A man with a briefcase paused, took off his coat and joined in with a few jazz chords. A busker unpacked his violin and added a melody above them both. Even a guard at the barrier started tapping his foot, though a train announcement soon broke into the music.
When the rush finally ended, the musicians finished with one last chord, held it, and let it die away. They never said a word to each other. They simply nodded and walked off in different directions. Later that morning, a cleaner stopped by the piano and left a small note on the music stand. It read: "Thank you."