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The Story:
He strummed to the rhythm of his heartbeat, while the lyrics poured out of his soul. When his eyes were closed, it was only him, his guitar, and his lyrics. No one could distract him or cause him to falter in the performance he had worked so hard to perfect for so many years.
He let the ringing of a chord and the vibrato of his voice carry the last fading sounds of his melody. When he opened his eyes, everyone was at their dinner tables talking with each other and eating. No one had noticed that his song ended. Of course, no one noticed him start either.
He threw his guitar down and stormed outside. Twelve years of hard work met with rejection had boiled up inside of him, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
He rounded the corner of the building and flattened himself against the brick wall.
“It’s a warm one, today, ain’t it?”
He had been too angry to notice the older woman sweeping the sidewalk next to him.
“Yeah, it’s… Yeah.”
“Heard you playing in there. Sounded good.”
“Yeah, well, you should tell that to the record label execs. Worst mistake of my life.”
“What’s that?”
“Music. I said it was the worst mistake of my life. No one cares about my songs.”
She studied him for a moment and continued sweeping.
“Do you know why I sweep?”
“Because jobs are hard to find?”
“Nope. It’s because I love it. I get to meet people like you, and I help keep our city clean.”
It was unusual, in his experience, to meet someone who actually enjoyed such a low paying job. He respected her for it, but the conversation wasn’t helping him feel any better.
“What’s your point, sweeper?”
“Why do you do music?”
“Because it makes me feel better about my life. It makes my soul smile.”
“Well, musician, it seems to me that those things don’t have to be validated by anyone for you to play music.”
She kept on sweeping, whistling the tune he had just finished playing.
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