Disgruntled, he took his seat in the concert hall just as the lights were going down. After the orchestra had tuned, & he almost nodded off, the soloist of the night came out. His attention was captured directly.
Her long hair flowed luxuriously over her shoulder as she bowed & took her place behind her harp. It had fallen over her face as she moved her hands up & stroked the strings of the instrument. He was entranced by her the whole performance, but never got a good look at her face; it was obscured by a veil of harp strings.
When she finished playing, the concert hall exploded in applause. He started the standing ovation for the harpist.
He tried to find his way backstage to say something to her, but the mass of people was to great to fight. He figured he’d try to look her up later, but there were no more programs. He walked into the brisk night air, sighing. He’d never see her again. On a pole there was a poster for her next concert. He’d just have to come to the next concert, he thought with a smile.