It was summer money, but mostly punishment. I had been miserable and showed it. Bussing tables at my aunt’s eatery was humiliating.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to pick one of the house instruments for an impromptu performance. It was uncommon for two strangers to seamlessly synchronize without a word. The new graduate student introduced himself through his talent that night. I was mesmerized, eyes closed to the notes.
When they finished playing, he excused himself: “Carpe diem – thank you – I’m late.” He played most nights that summer. I worked every night the rest of that summer, dancing to daydreams.
100 words. Feedback appreciated. I’m prone to daydreams, and I’m especially apt to take an adventure in the presence of the music I imagine would come from these two instruments.
What story comes to mind when you see that picture? Join in! Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog link-up based on a photo prompt. The Challenge – write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle, and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.) The Key – make every word count.
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