I don’t know where he came from. The hood on his jacket covered his face, but you could tell by the smell that he didn’t belong anywhere. He wore dark, baggy clothing, almost as if to hide his features, so all you saw was his violin. He didn’t matter. Sometimes he would play something I’d recognize. Often the piece was unfamiliar to me.
This was one of those times. The sound was gentle and haunting, hanging in the early waterfront fog, drifting between the morning travellers. Tourists waiting to take pictures of the sunrise, or locals like me, on their way to work.
I think that he’s been here for so long that he just blends in, and that’s why no one notices him. Sometimes a tourist would toss a coin in his case, more from the guilt of spending their money on cheap trinkets, rather than any appreciation of his talent.
His skill wasn’t perfect but I never noticed. It was more about how the notes made me feel, just like music should be. It was a story in its own language, and I felt like I understood his.
That’s why I noticed the morning that he went missing. I took some time on my lunch to look around. Maybe he had been kicked out and had to take up residence somewhere else. I was disappointed. The air felt heavier without him.
I was surprised when he reappeared a week later. As the sun struggled to shine through the clouds, there he was in his usual spot as if he’d never left. I found myself sitting on a nearby bench to listen, forgetting that I had to get to work.
A well-dressed woman in a long, beige coat set next to me, with an overpriced Starbucks in her manicured hands. “Do you like his music?” I asked her. She ignored me, setting her coffee down between us and pulling out her phone. Her behaviour didn’t bother me, it was pretty common around here. People too focused on their own little spaces. When I finally realized the time, I stood up and accidentally knocked over her cup, spilling its contents all over her coat and the ground. She jumped up cursing, trying to minimize the damage. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed, grabbing some tissue from my pocket and handing it to her. “I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, just send me the bill.” Again, she ignored me, shoving the phone in her pocket before storming off.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” I never noticed that the music had been replaced by a voice, who now stood close enough that I could smell his musty odour. I took a step back and he made no attempt to come closer. “A little clumsy I guess.” I smiled. I looked at the mess on the ground and picked up the discarded coffee cup, dropping it in a garbage can. I felt embarrassed and looked around to see if anyone else had seen what had happened. It appeared that no one noticed.
We looked at each other. I couldn’t make out his face, even up close, but he spoke with a smile. “We should be going,” he said, walking back to his spot and packing up. “I thought you’d go on your own, but it looks like you might need my help.” He chuckled at my confused expression. Why did I need his help, and where did he think we were going? If anything, I should be at work right now.
“I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken.” “No mistake,” he said. “We must be off, some of us still have work to do.” He offered his arm, and I found myself accepting it without hesitation. He patted my hand as we began. “Don’t worry, no one will ignore you there.”
I relaxed. “Will there be music?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied, as the world faded around us.
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