The day started with Ajax trying to keep his violin dry while still trying to make money. He sat quietly under the make shift awning he had wedged between the coffee shop and Dan's Diner. He found the patrons of both were more generous than most. On Sundays, he would take his battered wooden stool to one of the nearby churches around town. Guilt always pays. Ajax himself did not attend church.
But now he sat, thinking his feet would never dry out, the faint odor from the dumpster coming and going with the wind, and his bow flat and soft with humidity. No sound worthwhile would come out.
He softly he hummed Puccini C'e Mimi.
Pulling his worn rain coat tighter around himself and his violin, he contemplated his miserable condition. People hurried by and ignored him. His tip jar caught only raindrops.
