Friday, April 23, 2010

The Chilling Tale of the Semi-Homeless Cellist, Part One

Here I am, Anna. It's my third year of college, last semester. I'm walking to Albertson's, which is across a bridge in my town. There's sometimes a musician, as well as people who panhandle. Today, there's just a musician. A really good cellist, to be exact. I hadn't seen him for about 8 months, so I stood there, watching him play, listening to the cello. He eventually noticed me standing there, and introduced himself.

He had a huge scraggly beard, was wearing a stained knit cap, a black hoodie also sporting stains, and black pants. He was sitting on his amp as he played both with his fingers and his bow. I left to buy food and came back to him still playing. We talked for a little longer, and he gave me his business card. "I thought it was a really sexy design" he told me.

What kind of street musician has business cards? Let alone a cell phone number on the business card?

He then walked me to the end of the block, looked me in the eye and said "Anna, I just want to tell you again that you're really beautiful and I hope that you call me."

Part 2 will come when you least expect it. Or tomorrow.

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