Numbers // weekman/weekeman

-Part 1-

-Dallon POV-

I click open the latches on the ends of the violin case. I open it slowly, propping it open against the fencing of the coffee shop. It divides the sidewalk and the outside seating. A few people stare at their phones, their free hand wrapped around their drink. I pull my violin out of the case, taking the bow with it, too. I pick up the piece of neatly folded sheet music, unfolding it to skim it over. I've already memorized it, but I prefer to double check myself. It's a part of Hallelujah. The slow, calm one. You know, that's fit for this time of year.

"I need a fucking job," I mumble to myself, running my fingers through my hair. I test a couple notes on the instrument, sliding the bow across the strings. I force a small smile at people who pass by. They give me sideways looks, perhaps somewhat annoyed. I don't blame them. I'm the freakishly tall violinist who stands in the same spot every day, practically begging for money.

I practice a few measures at a time. There aren't many people out, and they all look absorbed in something. Whether it be their phone, or even in their own mind. So, at this moment, I'm not sure I could get any "tips" at this exact time and place. Why did I even bother getting here so early? I press my bow down on the strings, making a very irritating sound. A few people turn their gaze to look at me, shaking their heads in annoyance. Possibly disapproval.

"It's too early for this shit." I sigh, putting the instrument back in its case. Well, that didn't last very long. I close the latches. I wrap my fingers around the handle of the case and glance at the people sitting on the other side of the fencing. It wouldn't hurt to get something to drink, would it? It'll keep me occupied until I actually feel like playing this damn violin. I carry the violin with me and walk slowly to the door of the coffee shop. I open it, a little bell ringing as I walk in. Nobody else was inside.

I walk to the counter, glancing up at the list of drinks. Placing my violin on the floor, I wait patiently, as no one was at the counter. A small "sorry" is spoken as someone stumbles over to me, out of the back room. I force a smile.

"Sorry," he says again. His hand runs through his abnormally colored hair. It was a bright blue. Interesting, to say the least. He looks me over. "Take your time," he mumbles. I take a look at the little name tag he has on. "Ryan," it reads. He looks nervous.

"Just a small hot chocolate, please." I place five dollars on the counter. Ryan nods, fumbling with the money. "Keep the change," I add. I didn't even look at how much it costed, but I sure as hell know it didn't cost five dollars. I don't really like neither coffee or tea. No use in getting something I won't drink. I pick up my violin and take a few steps toward a small table. The whole shop had an old, rustic aesthetic to it. It was calm. I turn the seat at the table so it faces the windows. I observe people walking by, tapping my fingers on the table.

"You, uh, you play violin?" Ryan speaks up suddenly from behind the counter.

I turn around. "Yeah. Why?" I cross one leg over the other, still tapping my fingers anxiously.

Ryan walks to the edge of the counter, placing down my drink. "It's just, um, interesting." I stand and move over to the counter to grab my drink. I grin slightly as Ryan averts his eyes.

"Thanks." I sit back down, taking a small drink of the hot chocolate. It has a slight peppermint flavor to it.

Ryan clears his throat. "So, um, what kind of music do you play? Like, classical or covers?"

"I can play both. Covers are more fun, though." I rub my eyes, sighing. In the reflection in the window, I see Ryan nod slowly. He doesn't say anything after that.

I stay in the little building until I finish my drink. I put the cup in a garbage bin by the counter and pick up my violin. I mumble another small "thanks" as I open the door. I exit the shop and listen to my feet hit the sidewalk as I walk to the corner. And, repeating my process from earlier, I take out my instrument and begin to play.