I closed my eyes as I drew my bow across my cello, holding the last note out as long as possible. I could hear the roaring applause from the audience in Carnegie Hall, see the flowers being thrown onstage after my perfect, note for note solo.
I opened my eyes to see my pitiful truth thrown in my face. I sat on a street corner, my case open, hoping for any extra cash I could make. Times were hard, you know? Everyone in my family helped as best as we could, but I had never gone to college, hoping my music would take me places. I glanced down into my case, saw that it was empty, and heaved a sigh of remorse. As I began to gather my things and head to my low-paying fast food job, a man stopped me.
"You play beautifully," he said, handing me a twenty dollar bill. I thanked him, expecting him to move on with his day, and was startled when he said, "Would you like to come get some donuts and coffee with me?"
"I- uh- I- I have to get to work." I said, suddenly noticing how the lines around his mouth made him look as if he was about to smile, and seeing the kindness in his eyes. My eyes were drawn to the rest of his figure, decked out in a neatly pressed suit. "Every girl's crazy bout a sharp dressed man." The song popped into my head in an instant and I smiled.
"But I play here every Friday at 3, if you'd like to meet me next week." Surprising myself with my boldness.
"Of course," he replied, his eyes twinkling with some hidden amusement, his mouth drawn up into the sweetest smile I'd ever seen.
He turned and began to walk away, when suddenly I realized-"Wait!" He turned, "My name's Alice Monroe, what's yours?"
"Phil Coulson." He smiled, then turned away again, disappearing into the Portland crowds as suddenly as he had appeared.