Three out of four ain't bad: a triptych

While it rained, he stood at the window of his apartment playing a scratched violin. With only three strings, he had to adapt his musical arrangements. He was grateful once more that the E — the high string — was the missing string, and not any of the others. Those high notes scraped the inside of his brain anyway.

***

The little girls are dressed in their best clothes. Their grandmother starched and pressed the little dresses until they could have stood on their own. Their curled, brown hair is pinned away from their cheeks by matching yellow bird barrettes. Grandmother made them matching sweater-coats, smart little wool jackets to keep their blue dresses tidy and keep out the autumn chill. The polished shoes are buckled now, but the soccer ball abandoned under the practice goal will be irresistible soon. The tiny scuff marks will be scolded and then buffed away.

***

Two men play accordion inside the little Bavarian restaurant. The building was made of several rooms that had been added on and patched together over the past 100 years. In the nineties, the owner tried to make the place brighter by putting thick white stucco on all the inside and outside walls. Chalkboards display the hearty offerings of the day: two meals, two appetizers, two kinds of beer, and two accordion players.