Help!

Maybe

The music was wavering through the streets, carried by the wind, reaching even the furthest corner of the boulevard.

People stopped in their tracks, turning their heads towards the sound, trying to figure out where it came from.

He knew where it came from.

Every day he had passed the music and every day he had to stop.

Stop and watch.

Sometimes, he simply sat down on a nearby bench, tired from his day at the office, letting the music wash over him. Like balsam to his soul.

Sometimes, he hid around the corner or at the entrance of a shop, too embarrassed to be noticed. For him to be noticed to stand here everyday to listen to this young violinist.

Who played here every day without a fail, not even when it was bad weather.

He always had his eyes closed, a small smile contently playing around the corner of his lips, his posture fluid with the motion. The bow flying across the strings.

Creating such lovely music that it would still ring in Eddy's ears even long after he had left again.

Today had been exhausting.

Instead of hiding, he just sat on the closest bank and simply watched.

Watched, watched, watched, how this man with glasses played as if was the most joyful thing in life.

And then at some point, Eddy closed his eyes.

And then he didn't realise that the music stopped because it was still carrying on in his mind.

Only when he noticed someone sitting down next to him, did he open them again.

They widened in shock, when he saw who had sat down.

That violinist, who was now only smiling at him.

"You have been listening to me every day for the last three month without fail."

"You have been playing every day for the last three month without fail. I could not not listen."

The man hummed. Even his humming was melodic.

"Thanks", he eventually said and his smile was even more brilliant than Eddy could have imagined.

"Can I invite you for a coffee?"

He showed Eddy his hat, the one he left on the street for people to throw money in.

Eddy huffed.

"That's not quite enough, is it?"

"Ah, that's ok", the man shrugged, "I might have a dollar or two somewhere else flying around. I'll get us a coffee."

Eddy felt actually flustered that the other made such an effort.

"I should invite you for coffee. You have played so beautifully for the last three month."

"How about you pay for the second coffee."

"The second coffee?"

"The one on our next date."

Baffled, Eddy stared down at the hand that was stretched out to him. For him to take, to take and be swept off his feet.

"I'm Brett by the way."

"Eddy."

"It is lovely to meet you, Eddy. Let's go for coffee. I wanted to since the first time you stopped."

It was on Eddy now to give the other a brilliant smile.

"You didn't say."

"I did. Well."

Brett laughed loud, the sound ringing off in the wind just like his music. His eyes crinkling.

"I tried. But I don't think I chose the right music to do so."

"You did though. You played all my favourite pieces."

"Is that so", Brett mused, "maybe we're both a bit slow then."

"Maybe. Maybe we fit."

"Maybe."

"Let's find out?"

"Yes, please."

And that's how Eddy would go for coffee every evening, every day without a fail, every time when Brett finished to play on the street.