When

By Tom Shackleton

He held the note as a mother holds her child, and the audience held their breath. His desperate melody encircled and entwined the minds of those listening until their worries fell away.

As the cadence dropped and the chord changed, the spell collapsed like soufflé scooped by a silver spoon. The audience was locked in; their escapism found in his efforts.

“Play it like you mean it,” he said to himself, seeing impurity in his skills despite heartfelt applause surrounding him. Tired lips re-pressed on brass, and a new tune summoned him to greater heights in search of the perfect sound.