Leaves wisp through the air as the writer and the musician stand in each other’s eyes. Giving a short nod to the musician holding his violin, the writer turns around. She takes one step, and a gush of wind whips around her. The wind sends her scarf into the air. The writer twirls around to see the musician holding her scarf.
The man walks up to the small writer and offers her the scarf. She gazes up at him, entranced as the wind ruffles his hair. The corner of his lip goes up in a small smile, and he gently wraps the scarf around the writer. She watches as the man picks up his violin’s case and exits the grove. Lifting her hands, the writer touches the scarf around her neck as the man disappears from view.
The writer’s thoughts center around the man as she walks through the park. She returns to her apartment and begins jotting down thoughts and ideas. Soon, the sun begins to set, and the writer watches it with anticipation. She leans on the sill of the open window as leaves flitter by in the fading golden light. The long day starts to catch up with the young writer, and her eyes droop closed. Her head rests against the windowpane as the sun leaves the sky. A cold breeze wakes the writer.
She opens her eyes as a shiver runs down her spine. She looks around the room for the closest warming tool. Lazily grabbing the scarf, she wraps it over her shoulders as a shawl. She gives a small yawn as her ears pick up the first notes dancing into her apartment. The writer smiles and leans against the windowpane.
This rendition of “Clair de Lune” is calming. The scarf slides off a shoulder as the writer relaxes against the window. Stars begin peaking out as the musician begins “Clair de Lune” for the third time. A breeze ruffles through the scarf, teasing it off the writer’s shoulders. Her fingers loosen their hold on the scarf, so it sits limply on the writer. The writer is entirely entranced by the musician and does not notice the scarf falling off her shoulders. The instant the scarf falls, a gust of wind whooshes through the apartment, catching the falling scarf and whisking it out of the apartment.
Awakened by the cold wind, the writer grasps for her scarf as it flies out the window. She finds the upper half of her body leaning out the window as her eyes follow the scarf. Floating across the narrow street, it finally lands over the edge of an opened window. Barely hanging on, the scarf awaits its savior.
The writer’s gaze flows up the scarf and into the eyes of the musician. The man picks up the scarf and looks across the street into an apartment on the third floor. The writer, still hanging half-way over the street, looks at the man, who played “Clair de Lune” on violin, standing in the frame of the open window in front of a piano.
Here closes the curtain on the writer and musician. Fate has worked its ways to intercept the two artists, and we will let them do with it what they will. Happy New Year to my dear readers, and may you stay safe in these uncertain times.
I hope you have enjoyed this experimental short story series. Have a great day wherever you may be, and don’t forget to pause and enjoy the music!