Rain Across The Pavement
An elderly man in a flat cap dropped to both knees against the wet stone outside the conservatory entrance, his trembling fingers pressing against sheets of damp musical notation scattered across a puddle. His leather violin case lay open beside him, catching droplets as people walked past into the arched doorway.
A woman wearing a tailored black suit stopped directly in front of him. Her high heels clicked against the flagstones before coming to a firm halt next to the scattered pages. She pointed toward the wet walkway, telling him to clear his belongings away from the main entrance before arriving board members saw the mess.
The old man looked up from the ground, clutching a single sheet of soggy staff paper against his worn coat. He explained softly that his hands were unsteady and he was only attempting to keep his instrument dry, but she stepped closer and repeated that the entrance had to remain clear.
Kneeling In The Downpour
A younger man named Julian ran down the stone steps and dropped to his knees right beside the old man’s open case. He gathered several wet sheets into his hands, gently peeling the soaked paper apart so the ink would not bleed across the bars.
Julian slipped off his heavy overcoat and placed it directly over the open violin case, shielding the aged wood from the falling rain. He wiped down the edges of the box using the dry lining of his sleeve, lifting another page dripping with water from the stone.
The woman in the suit tapped the crystal face of her wristwatch with one manicured finger. She leaned down and warned Julian that his final audition with the director began in exactly five minutes, adding that missing the slot meant giving up his spot entirely.
Julian did not rise. He adjusted the coat over the instrument and pressed the edges flat, looking up to tell her that the musician needed help and the rain would destroy the handwritten pages if they remained on the ground.
She told him directly that she was sitting on the evaluation board upstairs and that stepping inside immediately was his only path forward. Julian met her gaze, held the damp pages against his chest, and stated that he would finish gathering the music first.
Inside The Director’s Office
Julian pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the top-floor boardroom just as the minute hand ticked over. Miss Vance stood beside the conference table, her arms crossed as she stared at his damp shirt and water-streaked coat.
She pointed a finger at him, stating that prioritizing an elderly busker over a formal audition proved he lacked professional judgment. Julian set his case down on a leather chair and told her that treating someone with dignity mattered far more than any title.
The double doors at the far end of the room swung open. A security badge clicked against a dark wool overcoat as a distinguished man in a dark suit walked steadily into the room, his gray hair neatly combed and a trimmed beard framing his jaw.
Miss Vance stopped speaking mid-sentence. Her mouth opened slightly as she tracked his path toward the mahogany desk, her fingers tightening around the strap of her handbag.
The man set his identification card flat on the desk surface, revealing the badge bearing the title of Conservatory Director. He looked across the room directly at Miss Vance, noting that the test outside had not been about how someone treats the powerful, but how they treat someone they believe has nothing to offer.
He turned toward Julian, a slow smile lifting the corners of his eyes as he slid an audition contract across the polished wood. Julian reached out with steady fingers, taking the paper as Miss Vance stood silently in the corner of the room, looking out the tall floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty skyline.
Send this to someone who always stands up for others even when no one is watching.
