Hearts Under Fire

Chapter 1 - My Way

Excited because of her new hairstyle, Jenny, a thirthy year-old blond, left the salon and headed for her own shop..

It was a five-minute walk through the historic center of town. Nothing new, even though she wasn’t often in that alley, since the small apartment where she had been living for seven years was located on the other side of town.

The pavestones and the old buildings lent the air a distinctly ancient quality. Jenny loved walking there when she had the chance to. She enjoyed following and dodging, according to their directions, the tourists that moved like a disorganized flock. Women who stopped to look at bags and pashminas, men focused on belts for pants or stuck and fed up with waiting for their wives deciding what to buy, others who wandered into pottery shops looking for souvenirs, salespersons placing items on display or dealing with customers, everything in a quaint medley of voices and noises. That’s why the sound of a violin was able to easily filter up to her ears.

And the step from ears to heart was immediate.

A celestial sound brought goose bumps to her white skin.

“My Way,” she muttered, ecstatic.

She recognized it right away. She loved that song. It wasn’t The Voice or the lyrics. Just the melody. Those four notes floated from one chord to another with classic dancers’ lightness and grace, maintaining the complicated ease of a petal at the mercy of the wind. Then, without warning, they came crashing into people’s hearts.

Jenny didn’t hear anything anymore. Just the violin, a sweet voice that silenced everything and summoned her.

Hypnotized with wonder, she followed the music.

As she approached, the emotion produced by those notes reminded her of how sweet a tear of joy’s flavor could be.

Going ahead, she kept her eyes in the direction where the divine call seemed to come from.

Among backs and faces of the passersby, next to the wall between a tobacco shop and an ice cream parlor, she saw a man’s silhouette. He was tall and blond with a globe-shaped belly, and he was wearing shorts and blue polo shirt. He was playing the violin. An orchestral background comingfrom two small speakers accompanied him in his solo performance. The open violin case lay at his feet, a few coins scattered inside.

Jenny stopped to listen to him, but after only a few seconds, she realized she wasn’t the only one. From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure six or seven steps to her right, a man also standing still and facing the busker.

She glanced with a fleeting movement of her irises: Adonis had escaped from the myth to materialize himself beside her.

An interior thud. Her heart began palpitating in an absurd way.

Was this because of the song or how fascinating the man was? Maybe music was just amplifying the turmoil caused by the sight of him.

She stood there, astounded. It was a feat just to control her breathing.

He was standing too. She perceived him there, against the background of people walking all around them.

She longed to look at him again, but the fear of meeting his eyes stopped her.

Fear? Fear of what?

She moved her eyes fast.

He was focused on the busker. He looked to be in his thirties, wiry, wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with long sleeves—strange, given the warm weather—he had one hand in his pocket and with the other, held the neck of his jacket slung over his shoulder.