"I'm sorry, sir. You must be eighteen and over to tryout for the New York Philharmonic."
"But I am skilled!" I protest, waving my violin and bow around. "You heard me! I do not understand!"
"Sir, do you have a parent or guardian with you?" the man asks, growing frustrated. "Maybe we can make an exception-"
"I am over eighteen!" I howl furiously. "I am two hundred and seventeen years old!"
"Funny," the man says, pushing his glasses into place. I have the sudden urge to snatch the glasses off the older man's face and snap it in half. "Funny, considering you don't even have a license on you."
"What do you want me to play?" I beg, holding up the violin to my chin. I ready the bow and peer up at the man. "I will play anything!"
"Please leave. Or I'll call the police. Come back when you're eighteen. Or when you bring your parents. Or maybe when you're finally smart enough to bring your license or birth certificate."
The door slams in my face.
--
I'm lost in a maze of glass.
Skycrapers loom over me dauntingly, yellow taxis zoom by, honking at other colored cars. Buses create a putrid smell. Foodcarts are plastered with bright colored posters and signs.
"Hello," I say as politely as possible, approaching the nearest foodcart. The lady pauses in her cooking and give me a once-over. She eyes my white tunic and brown pants with distaste. What is with these people? I sling my violin case onto my back and look at the menu that is taped onto the counter.
The first item on the menu reads "Chicken kebob." I look at the woman in horror. This woman is the killer of innocent chicken. I back away, almost tripping over my own feet.
I flee the chicken killer.
A/N: short chappie. sorry. also, i'm not vegetarian. i love my meat!
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Golden Girl
Viễn tưởngIt's that heart of gold, and stardust soul that makes you beautiful. --- It is said the trees of Golden Glen lure young girls away from their path and into the haunted, mysterious woods. They turn into trees and remain encased in bark for the rest...
