The Musician

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I’m back from my glorious vacation in Spain and trying (really hard) to get back into writing mode with Yeah Write’s weekly fiction prompt. This week’s prompt is ‘I wanted to write her a poem’. I’d love to know what you think of this piece.

It was Friday evening and the St.Paul’s tube station was packed with commuters eager to get home. Some of them almost forgot to mind the gap in anticipation of the weekend that lay ahead. The musician however, was in stark contrast to this crowd. It was as if he had nowhere to go. He sat on his little stool and played his accordion so soulfully that it seemed to breathe life into the dank underground. Some people actually stopped for a second or two to listen. 

Oliver shut his office laptop and hurried to the tube station. As he waded through the sea of people coming in mostly from Fleet Street, his mind raced back to the events of the last couple of months. His wife of ten years with whom he was so in love with, had left him. She had said she loved him but that spark was gone. “There’s no romance left in this marriage. We hardly even talk these days”, Sheila had said. He tried to recollect when exactly they had started to drift apart. Maybe it was after they had lost the baby.

Deep inside, he knew that Sheila was right. He hadn’t exactly been there for her when tragedy had struck. He had thrown himself into work. But he hadn’t expected their marriage to come to this. He missed Sheila. All his apologies and pleas for a second chance had been mercilessly ignored. She wouldn’t return his calls or e-mails. He had sent her flowers and gifts, but they were sent back. He wanted to write her a poem but she would probably drift farther away if he did. Poetry wasn’t exactly his strong suit. What more did she want him to do? Beg for her love? 
“Then so be it” he thought. He hurried down the station steps, brought out his little foldable stool and his accordion. He knew that Sheila would pass by anytime now. He put his heart into playing her favorite tunes in the hopes that one day, she would turn around and smile at him just like the very first time they had met.

12 thoughts on “The Musician

    1. mixedbag Post author

      Thank you so much, Jennifer! So glad you said that. I was afraid the non-chronological sequence of events in the story would confuse my readers.


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