BUSKER H.S. (english)

2.

His teeth was clenched together, a fake calm expression on his face while he was facing all the cameras. He taught himself how to behave on receptions like these. He never made a wrong move, he greeted people with phrases he learned, like a parrot learns to repeat sentences, but doesn't understand them. He was numb inside, but people around him thought he had everything he needed.

"What about your personal life Mr. Styles, any ladies?"One of the reporters asked, when it was time to ask questions. Harry couldn't see who asked, as all the flashlights blinded him and he couldn't see the faces of the journalists. "Actually Mr. Styles, there are rumours you are rather accompanied by men, then by women. Is that true?" He heard another voice.

The journalists started to argue and multiple more questions were fired at Harry. He stayed totally calm, but his jaw clenched a bit more than usual, he pushed his teeth together so hard it started to hurt, but that helped him to keep his face emotionless and calm. He hated personal questions.

A member of the security quickly stepped in to calm the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen. Please quite down! Ask your questions one by one and give Mr. Styles some time to answer."

"And keep the questions non personal please." He added.

"Any more questions about the project?" Harry asked when the reporters calmed down and placed their focus fully on him again. He answered a few more questions and then went back among the honourable guests of the reception.

...

"Morning sir."

"Morning Anna." Harry entered his office. It was not the one he was getting ready for the reception yesterday. This one was smaller and had more furniture. A desk made out of some luxury wood, two black leather armchairs and one shelf full of vintage metal boxes with tea.

"So how are the reviews about yesterdays reception so far?" He asked while making himself comfortable sitting behind the desk and turning on his computer to start work.

"Seems pretty good sir. If you need anything just give me a ring, I have some things to do down in the residence reception." She placed a cardboard folder filled with paper letters, ratings or possible buyer's inquiries and a cup of hot black tea in front of him on the desk." He nodded and took a brand new silver-blue pen out of his drawer.

"See you then" he said and opened the folder.

It was late in May and the morning the sun started to shine aggressively trough the glass walls of Harry's office. There was just one window, or more like an openable hole in the glass wall. Harry took of his suit jacket and loosened his tie just a tiny little bit. He opened the window and went back to his desk, to look at the big cardboard folder, He opened it and started to carefully read the first document, his eyebrows frowning as usual when he was concentrating, creating that little wrinkle just above his nose.

Then he got distracted, by a voice from the outside. A familiar voice. It was the busker from yesterday! He got angry, he slapped the cardboard folder against the table and rushed out of his office. Took the elevator to the first floor and got out of the door. He walked quickly, people fortunately didn't manage to recognise him.

As he walked through the street, passing all the people, he calmed down a little, realising he's mad for no reason. Then he saw her from the back. Sitting on the sidewalk with the guitar, her blonde curly hair sometimes swayed a bit with the wind. Her happy voice was resonating around. He walked slowly and then stopped just about two meters away from her hiding under the shadow of his own building. Her eyes were closed as she sang with all her heart. He looked at her and listened. People just passing them by.

He listened to the words she sung, the song was about love. Then she stopped and opened her eyes, they met with his green ones.

"Hello." She said and smiled at him. He gazed at her for a second more and then he realized why he actually came. He didn't like songs about love.

He cleared his throat. "Erm actually I came to tell you to pack your guitar and leave." He said strictly.

She seemed surprised and the happy smile faded from her face,

"May I ask you why do you want me to do that?"

"You are sitting under my building, yesterday and today too. I don't know what your plan is. If you are a thief or you want money, you will definitely not get it from me." He said and started to feel angry again. He himself didn't know the reason behind his harsh actions towards that young woman. Maybe he needed to let out his anger that he was keeping in somewhere deep down.

"Oh no sir. I'm sorry, I didn't know this was your building. I don't even know who you are. And you are mistaken, I'm not a thief, nor do I want money. I just want to make people smile. Make at least a little while in their busy city lives happy, by singing a song or smiling at them. It's for free."

"Why do you have a hat here then?" He pointed out an old brown hat on the ground. "Well" she said "if there is someone generous, I could use a penny to buy something to eat, but it's not the main reason why I'm singing here."

"Are you a hobo?" He asked.

"No sir, just a girl with not much money."

"I see. Well busk wherever you wanna busk, busker, but try not to scream into my windows." He said and started to walk away.

"You know, maybe you would be happier if you let some sunshine into your life. I don't know what's bugging you, but you seem so stiff. Try maybe just going out with some friends sometime, visit the central park and see some nature, just relax. It might cure you from being a stuffed city prick." She yelled, grabbing her guitar and quickly walking away in an opposite direction.

There it was, he reached his goal and walked back into the house. With no relief whatsoever.

AAAh my english is horrible byeee