You wake up early. You sit on your bed and pull out the book. You turn to the next page.
Never touch a piano that is out of tune.
You can't know that a piano is out of tune unless you play it. But if you play it and discover that it is out of tune, you must run far, far away. You must never touch a piano. No matter how much it asks to be played.
When a violin is being played, secure your pockets.
Loose change and pocketknives go missing when a violinist is around. The violinist swears it's never him. How could he? He's playing the violin.
Mournful harmonicas will make you cry. Do not let them. Your tears will burn you.
You don't understand. You've never heard a mournful harmonica. You hope it's a metaphor.
Tin can drums are the safest, but never touch one.
You decide that's enough reading. You close the book. You must get to Kansas City.
You need to refill your supplies. Your pack is getting lighter, even though you don't remember eating anything on your journey. You don't remember using anything, or taking anything out of your pack. But you know you need to resupply.
The barmaid gives you most of what you need. Soap, cloth patches, water, shards of glass with filed edges. Silver coins, a small mirror, hairbrush. Lots of food. You don't remember which are necessities and which are superstitious talismans, but you decide it doesn't matter.
What do you take in payment? You ask the barmaid. Everyone always wants something different. You hope they don't want your life or body parts in trade. There are rumors that skirt across the plains of cults of cannibals.
The barmaid smiles. Your handshake.
You try not to show your relief. You shake her hand firmly and look her in the eyes. They are a nice color. You don't know which one.
Colors. You've read about them, not in the book, but in other books. The colors have names. Red. Black. Purple. The books you've read never described the colors, so you don't know what they are. It always seemed like those books expected everyone to already know what those colors were. You never knew. But you understand what colors are.
You don't want to walk again. You don't like the endlessness. But the ringing in your ears grows shriller with every second you spend in this town so you set off immediately.
