Martin always felt on the edge of life, just out of sync with the “real world”.
He laughed at odd things, in the wrong places and found social situations frightening.
Pitiful glances from so called “friends” made him withdraw; seeking solace instead in the company of his cello, the cadence of its mellow mournful notes suited him.
Finding a regular spot on the Circle Line he busked as the world rushed by.
Commuters had little time to stop or stare.
However occasionally he received a look of envy, a strange longing to be just like him, lost in secluded tranquillity.
100 words exactly this week Angela! ;-)