Layers and layers and piles and piles, he would form a big nest for himself, made from blankets, yoga mats, and wetsuits. At night he would strip to n...thing but his socks, a ski mask, and gloves and quickly crawl into his bed hole. The blankets felt heavy enough to be another human being. ‘…hope you’re all enjoying this misty weather today. Comin’ up in a couple minutes here, we’ve got the sig alert traffic report and…’ The grating morning traffic routine interrupted a maelstrom of crimson and. But what do I know from anything about violins? He's adjusting the strings; I believe he's going to play. Kalodin (of course that's who it is) begins and the notes cascade off the strings. A slight breeze catches them and the sound passes through Mrs. M's open window. She is at her desk engaged in the most mundane of tasks, drawing up a grocery list. By habit her free hand is tucked between her thighs. It is mid-morning but she is still in her short pajamas.This is not ordinary music. It is at. More

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