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 & 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