Member-only story
FICTION STORY
Things are not Always What They Seem
God, where have these people hurried off to?
“Why did you get him here?” the police inspector asked.
“Um…”, the young policeman murmured, “They told me he was a beggar…”
“They?”
“Some owners of fashion stores on the same street.”
“Which street?”
“Where he plays his violin!”
The inspector turned for the first time to the gray-haired man before him.
“Do you play on the street?” he asked him.
The man nodded.
“Sometimes,” he replied.
“Do you get money for it? Does anyone give you money?” continued the inspector.
“It happens,” the man confirmed.
“Why do you stand right there and play?”
The gray-haired man smiled crookedly and said, “I like the stained glass windows.”
“The stained glass windows?” the inspector asked, surprised.
“Yes. Haven’t you seen them? The front windows of the church across the square are beautiful! But I don’t want to bother the praying people there. From across, the windows look much better. They are…
