Lonely Are the Free

“Raymond, is that you?” A familiar-looking man lifted his shades to inspect me further. I took a step back and pulled the saxophone I was carrying closer to my chest. The instrument was my crucifix to repel those who wished to intrude on the privacy of my post. It was a good spot, parcelled off to the side of a thoroughfare that led right to the downtown mall. “Raymond! It is you. It’s me, Owen. We were at Sullivan ampersand McKenzie at the same time.” He gestured toward himself, expecting some reaction from me. I knew him all right—a haunt … Continue reading Lonely Are the Free