The Nameless Saxophonist
Sometimes I wonder if I’d stopped that day how differently my life might have turned out. He saw me. Definitely. Our eyes met as he cycled out of the crowds of Saturday shoppers and I cycled to the market for cheese, bread and flowers. I’d seen him before, his mop of blond hair falling into his eyes and I wanted to tell him, amongst many other things, that he badly needed a haircut.
The first time I saw him he was playing his saxophone on the cobbled streets of The Hague, eyes closed in concentration with a battered open case at his feet for passers-by to throw in the odd coin or two. Along with a small gathering of people I stood watching him as he belted out tune after tune, his lungs endlessly refilling to allow the delivery of strong round sounds. He saw me too, I know he did. I saw myself through his eyes: too tall, too skinny, arms too long for my tall, skinny body. I turned and walked away before he got the chance to talk to me.
That time I saw him cycling I know he looked back because I did too and our eyes met again. But I kept cycling. I’ll never know if he spun his bike around and followed me. If he did, I was long gone. Stupid. Every time I visit my aunt in The Hague I think about him. I never even knew his name.
Sometimes I wonder if I’d stopped that day how differently my life might have turned out. He saw me. Definitely. Our eyes met as he cycled out of the crowds of Saturday shoppers and I cycled to the market for cheese, bread and flowers. I’d seen him before, his mop of blond hair falling into his eyes and I wanted to tell him, amongst many other things, that he badly needed a haircut.
The first time I saw him he was playing his saxophone on the cobbled streets of The Hague, eyes closed in concentration with a battered open case at his feet for passers-by to throw in the odd coin or two. Along with a small gathering of people I stood watching him as he belted out tune after tune, his lungs endlessly refilling to allow the delivery of strong round sounds. He saw me too, I know he did. I saw myself through his eyes: too tall, too skinny, arms too long for my tall, skinny body. I turned and walked away before he got the chance to talk to me.
That time I saw him cycling I know he looked back because I did too and our eyes met again. But I kept cycling. I’ll never know if he spun his bike around and followed me. If he did, I was long gone. Stupid. Every time I visit my aunt in The Hague I think about him. I never even knew his name.
Laura Besley
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Last week I got a mention in a local Hong Kong newspaper, the South China Morning Post! It was as part of a book review for the Hong Kong Writers Circle's latest anthology, Of Gods and Mobsters. Click here for the link.
Flash Fortnightly #16 is a previously published piece from my blog. It was popular, which is why I decided to republish it with Artipeeps! Click here for Down the Hill.
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The challenge to write a piece a day is officially over. I'm so in love with flash fiction that I'll keep on writing it and hopefully still have a piece a week to share with you (my wonderful readers). I would like to dedicate some time to reworking older pieces as well as more time to writing longer pieces. Watch this space!
congrats on the review!
ReplyDeleteAnd yeah, moments like that are what regrets are all about.
Thanks for commenting, Sonia! :)
DeleteGreat description of a cumbersome being she couldn't properly connect with.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on the mention! Very cool.
Thanks, John! :)
DeleteAah and so the saxophone player makes an appearance :) Very nice and nostalgic piece xx
ReplyDeleteIndeed it is! ;) xxx
DeleteLove it. So atmospheric.
ReplyDeleteThank you! :)
DeleteLoves all the little detailsand self reflection, and congratulations on the mention!
ReplyDeleteThank you, and thank you! :)
DeleteNice little slice of regret.
ReplyDeleteCongrats on the mention!
Slice of regret - that's a good way to put it!
DeleteGreat detail in such a short space Laura, nice.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Deanna! :)
DeleteGreat job. Maybe their paths will cross again. :)
ReplyDeleteYes, we can hope that fate will intervene on their behalf! :)
DeleteSee, this is what "don't talk to strangers" does to us as adults.
ReplyDeleteGreat setup, and I thought the description of the saxophone playing in particular was well done.
Congratulations on the review!
Good point, Katherine! :)
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