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The station wasn’t crowded. A few tourists strode about in khakis and silly t-shirts, staring at their phones and glancing up at the signs indicating various stops along the subway lines. A few men and women in business suits frowned as they weaved their way through the station, glaring at the tourists.
A playful sound1caught her attention and she searched for the source before she realized what she was doing.
Once again, the man with the violin stood along the wall, playing with his eyes closed. He wore the same ball cap and jeans as before, but his t-shirt was light gray today. It was a jaunty tune. The wordsBach partitacame to mind and she frowned as her fingers began to move along with his. She had played this piece as a teenager. The tune made her smile. Images of a warm summer day playing in sun-drenched grass filled her imagination as she sat down on a wooden bench, close enough to see him, but far enough away to not be obvious about it.
The tune ended and she clapped enthusiastically for a few seconds, then gasped and froze, hands mid-clap, as he opened his eyes. Once again, she found herself captured by his dark-eyed gaze, unable to move.
They stared at one another for a moment, then he smiled and put his bow to the violin once more. He didn’t close his eyes, though. The melody2pulled at her heart; it was melancholy, but not sad; full of longing and hope. She had played this one, too. Another Bach partita, the short unaccompanied pieces violinists were so fond of. Or hated so much, depending on their temperament.
His jaw moved as he played, as if he were singing and his voice flowed through his body and out from the instrument in his hands. The passion of the piece shone in his eyes. Emily held her breath as, somehow, she understood the meaning of the song to him. Though, if someone asked her what it meant, she wouldn’t be able to explain it. She only understood it in her heart.
As he pulled the last notes from his beautiful instrument, he walked over and sat down next to her.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
She stared at him for a moment, wondering if it would be rude to run away.Probably. “Hi.”
He chewed his lip. “I saw you yesterday.”
Emily nodded. “I was going home.”
The man nodded. “I figured.”
She forced a smile, wondering what he wanted. Did he know what she was? Is that why he came to talk to her? “I should go...” Emily reached down for her shopping bags and the man grabbed her arm. Her eyes widened with fright and she gasped.
He released her, his brows knit together in evident concern. “Please. Don’t go.” He swallowed. “I... I wanted to ask you something.”
Emily frowned. “What?”
The man shrugged and plucked a string on his violin. “I wanted to know what made you stop and listen yesterday. Most everyone else ignores me. You... didn’t.”
“You come here a lot?” Emily asked.
“Sometimes.” He flicked his eyebrows up and down. “It helps me clear my mind.”
He must have a very challenging job.It took her a moment to come up with an honest answer, yet not give away too much. “I haven’t heard music like yours in a long time.” She paused. “It was... beautiful.”
“Is that it?” he asked, his eyes full of doubt.
“Isn’t that enough?”
He laughed. “Of course. I always like it when people think my playing is beautiful.”
Emily liked the sound of his laugh. It was enthusiastic and genuine. Something she didn’t hear often. She found herself smiling at him. “It was...” She hesitated. Would he understand how his music touched her very soul?
He stared at her intently, as if willing her to confess.
“It... I felt it... Inside me.” Emily pointed to her heart. “I didn’t just hear you play. Ifeltit.”
“Really?” He grinned like a little boy in a candy shop and she didn’t understand why.
Emily nodded.
“Are you a musician?”
Emily stared at him, mouth open, trying to come up with a reply. “Why on earth would you think something like that?” She forced a laugh.
* * *
