A Promise

     The bustling of the city never ceased. It was a constant repeat of the past, and a solid premonition of what the future held. Buildings rose high above the streets, making each and every person small. Me? I was small to begin with, there was no need to be high up in a building. Who would notice me if they were up there? I gave a long sigh after looking up at the walls of glass stretching to the clouds. One day, I'd be able to get my music to reach those buildings. One day, I'll be off the streets and somewhere safe. Until then, I was stuck. Fixed in my place, like a cog destined to run a certain way until I aged and got replaced by a newer me. 

     A small bird flew through my vision and knocked me out of the daze. I straightened my worn wool jacket, the fabric filled with holes and weak patches. I walked to the edge of the sidewalk and rested upon the curb, setting my case down beside me. Sitting there, I removed my violin delicately. I inspected its wood, making sure each and every cord was in tune. I began my regular tune upon the violin's strings, playing it as best I could. 

     The tune wasn't sweet or beautiful, it was more of a promise. A promise to the heart that it'll be alright. That the pain wouldn't last forever, and the rain would pass. I gave it my soul, and thanked every hand that dropped a coin. By the end of the song, I had wept a few tears. Each time I played it, it brought back old memories of a family I no longer had. Wiping the sting from my eyes, I realised I had enough change to buy a fresh hotdog. I packed up my things carefully, making sure not to harm the violin or my bow, and hurried to a stand down the street. 

     "One hotdog please!" I asked the man behind the cart. He eyed me for a moment before grunting and lifting a hotdog off the grill. He placed it in a stale looking bun, but I didn't give it a second glance. I gave him my change and began my walk towards the fountain. This was going to be a great lunch, filled with joy and a filled stomach. Sadly, that lunch didn't happen the way I had planned it. 

     A tall businessman bumped into me as he passed, sending my hotdog clean out of the stale hard bun. I watched it as it bounced off the road, almost through the air in a slow jelly, before rolling into a gutter. For a moment I stood, stunned at the event. Then, a wave of sadness rolled over me. This wasn't the first time I had been bumped, or cheated out of lunch. I was certain it wouldn't be the last, either. Before I returned to my post at the corner, I took one more glance at the small grease stain the hotdog had made on the ground. 

     Then I returned to my position at the street corner, the violin back in my hands, ready for the song. The song that gave a promise, a promise that one day things would be better. One day, I would have something fresh to eat.