Baroque woke to the smell of bacon frying and coffee. He pushed himself out of the bed and checked the clock, which read 8:39 PM. He nodded to himself, having gotten a solid amount of sleep. He tried to remember where he was going to be performing that night, but couldn't. He had it written down somewhere... Probably in his guitar case.
Throwing on a pair of pants and a t-shirt he left the small bedroom of his apartment to head for the kitchen. As he entered the kitchen the smell grew much stronger and he was graced with the sight of his fiancée, Contrabasse, preparing not only his breakfast, but her dinner. The two of them rarely saw each other, working so differently. He played night clubs, she taught jazz at the University of Baltimare. They both had to wonder when and if their jobs would waver, but for the moment they were doing just fine. As fine as they could be doing in a three room apartment in downtown Baltimare.
He sat himself down at the island in their kitchen, leaning forward on the island, pulling one of her music books towards him. "You're teaching this?" he asked, flipping through the book. It was an extremely high-level set of pieces that he knew she would be able to handle, but he didn't know about her students.
"Hm?" She turned, glancing at what he was looking at. Her eyes twinkled, a bright green. "Oh, that. I'm bringing it in to test one of my students. I think her special ability might be the same as mine. The world can never have too many double bass players." She turned back to the stove, tending the bacon.
"Aren't your students between ten and fifteen?"
"Mhm."
"She must be really good."
"It's amazing," she began laying out strips of bacon on a plate, "she's probably one of the most talented students I've taught." She poured Baroque a mug of coffee and set the food down in front of him. "This is all we have left in terms of breakfast food, this and a salad. Can you pick something up on your way home?"
"If we've got any money left."
Contrabasse frowned. "I thought you got paid last night."
"I did, but I wasn't on for nearly long enough for any kind of meal."
Contrabasse sighed. "Alright, then I guess we're both on our own." She sat next to him at the island and picked at a small bowl of plain-looking salad in front of her. "Are you alright babe? You look, anxious."
Baroque rubbed his face, then glanced at her. "I don't know. It was at the club last night, there were two people in the back. They didn't feel quite right."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. It was just, there weren't many people there last night, and there were these two people in the back who were giving me bad vibes. I don't know what it was, they were just- off."
"I think you were just tired. When was this?"
"Around two maybe? I'm not sure."
"You were probably just tired hun, just concentrate on performing tonight."
They finished their respective meals in silence, Baroque finishing his first. He took the plate to the sink and moved to the door as Contrabasse finished her salad. As he had thought, he had written down the address on a sticky note inside his guitar case. He quickly memorized it and shut his case, donning his coat and picking up the handle of his guitar. Contrabasse stood to see him off, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before he left the apartment, making his way down the dingy staircase of the complex.
Due to the war, things had changed a lot in his neighbourhood. Though it was a poor neighbourhood to begin with, the war had eaten away at whatever respect it had left, as it usually does with the poor. The streets were now lined with men and women asking for money, food, anything that could help. What made the scene worse was the children who were hiding behind garbage cans, watching people go by and hoping against hope that someone would reach out to them and give them something, be it food or money. It made Baroque sad to see that so many children were lost and hungry, knowing that he could do nothing about it.
As he was walking, he felt something nudge his guitar case. "Excuse me, sir?"
He looked down to see a young girl by his side, looking up at him through curly, dark hair. Her eyes were dark orange and sad. "What have we got here?" he asked her, smiling.
"Um, I'm really hungry."
"Here," he pulled out his wallet and opened it. It was nearly empty, but he could give the girl a few bits for her own food. She could get some bread with it, which wasn't much but enough. He handed her five bits.
"Thank you mister!" she said smiling, and ran away, the coins clutched tightly in her hands. He smiled after her as she went, knowing that she would eat something tonight, and if not herself then her family. He continued his progress, his wallet and heart a little lighter.