Darryl was an accordion. He loved music with all of his being, which was a lucky coincidence, I suppose. Like most others whose appearance is strange or beautiful, Darryl was invited out quite a lot, and enjoyed the attention. Fellow music lovers could always spot him immediately, which meant free muffins at his favorite coffee shop, and plenty of open jam invitations. Most bands who he guest accompanied would enjoy the unique sound he provided, and a noticeable increase in t-shirt sales. Despite all the wonderful things Darryl had going for him, he could not help but feel a cold emptiness in his bellows. He spoke to a psychiatrist, an instrument repairman, and his friends at the coffee shop. Everyone said the same thing: "You are a hollow accordion, and that cold and empty feeling is the passage of air through your middle."
Darryl may have been an older instrument, but he was certainly not stupid. If anyone knew how an accordion worked, it was him.
This was something else. It was the feeling of a stagnant life. All the parties, the gigs, the muffins, they were a routine that he would miss dearly, but Darryl had decided not to stay.
(Darryl moves to a new city)
The Busker from Maddi Matthews on Vimeo.
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