the piano tuner's daughter

The blind piano tuner made a house visit. He worked on the wires, keys and pedals. I rested my hand on the wood to feel the vibrations of his testing tones. When the piano was ready my mother, wrapped in a turquoise coat, seated herself upon the bench. Heavy rapturous music commenced.
My hand tightened upon the curve of the wood. The room spun as my face was pinned to hers. Our emotions intertwined. Losing my grip I fell away and spun out.
I-spun-out.