Photo prompt © Bjorn Rudberg
He had not touched a musical instrument in last five years. But the music had never deserted him.
Sometimes he wondered that it was idiotic of him not to accept their proposal; they would have made him rich. He had to just tinker with his compositions. But he was fiercely passionate about his music; he had declined.
‘What a harebrained person I am?’
He was walking past the restaurant in a lackadaisical manner when he heard the sounds. Someone was playing his composition; a composition that he would not tinker with.
He felt sad for the composition; it had been mutilated.
Word count 101