Prompt was: Street Musician Kurt.


Rachel would see him every day on the street. He always wore the same purple coat, the same black finger less gloves and turtleneck, the same houndstooth pageboy hat. Sometimes a white scarf would accompany it when it was really cold.

But the thing that always stood out was the violin.

It wasn't the instrument itself, per se. It was the way he handled it. She had stood and watched him more than a few times, just to understand him. His playing was beautiful, almost breath taking. He treated the violin like a gentle dove until he started a song. Then it felt like the notes were stabbing into her soul.

He had regulars who'd come to listen. They'd leave a few coins or a paper bill or two, but it was not enough for his beautiful playing. Rachel wondered if this was how he made his living and how he survived.

"They call him Porcelain," said a red headed woman sitting on a bench beside Rachel one day. She was one of the regulars. They both had been sitting and listening to him as pigeons wandered around at their feet. It was overcast in the city, but not dark. Another somber day.

"Because of his skin?" Rachel responded.

The woman shook her head as she closed her book.

"Because he is a masterpiece. He's had all the greats you know, come to listen to him. But he never pays them no attention."

"Doesn't he want to be discovered?" asked Rachel. "He could make so many albums. He would be asked to play around the world."

"Who knows?" said the red head. "Sometimes I think he plays so everyone can remember."

"Remember what?" said Rachel, looking curiously at the woman.

"What they are missing." The red head looked at her phone with a sigh before picking up the book she had been reading and walking away. It was an Agatha Christie novel, a mystery begging to be solved.

Much like Porcelain.

Rachel felt lost and confused at her words. While she always felt wistful and melancholy listening to him play, she didn't think she had lost anything. She had a nice childhood with her dads in New York. She had taken acting and dance classes and made it onstage to Broadway. Now she was touring with a show and it was lovely to be in London. It was such a different city.

Porcelain had changed songs, and there was a new ache in her heart. She closed her eyes and put her feet up on the bench, just listening to the music. She didn't recognize the song, but it did not matter. It told her what she needed to know. He was so in tune with the music, turning out every note to be as sweet as the one before it.

The one thing the music did was to make her want to have someone to share it with. She had always told herself that it was lonely at the top. And with her drive and ambition, it always was. She could never get close to people. They would leave her in the end anyway.

She sat that way through the evening, barely moving. She would listen to Porcelain play forever on her days off. Rachel could always go see more of London later. She just wanted to soak in the sound of the violin.

Sometime later, the music stopped and Rachel opened her eyes. He had tied the white scarf back on and was packing up his violin. She put her feet on the ground with a grimace and moved to follow. Rachel had to know more about him. But before she could even blink, he was gone. She looked up and down the street. He was nowhere to be seen.

Rachel pondered for a moment if he was even real. London was definitely an interesting place.