confessions of a cynic

Talking of happiness, i had a 'clear' vision. To be happy,one had to belong to the top rung of the class, needed to have 672 friends, a couple of sophisticated hobbies, assets worth millions if not billions and one dashing,smart,loyal-as-a-dog boyfriend. I was not happy. I had none and so did 'Key'.
Key was short and stout. He was swarthy and had muscular footballer legs. His salt and pepper curls fell on his eyes and were sometimes pulled back into a ponytail. His hands were the ones that interested me. They could work wonders. I would come back to that later.
Key was my friend but i hated being spotted with him. So did everyone. He was intelligent, creative and unaffected but his best friend called him an asshole, no less. It was plain and tacit-he was not happy.
After having avoided his phone calls for, say, three months, I received his call one evening and was greeted with a beautiful composition, an original soft rock.
Only happy hands coupled with a happy heart could have created that magic.......