Playing his life

I sit on the pavement by his side, listening to the boy play. A little piece of bamboo with evenly spaced apertures transforms into a wizard's wand. He plays effortlessly and beautifully, notes and smile in perfect harmony. He hands me the flute with the quiet confidence of a master ... encouraging but not quite condescending. My smoker's lungs splutter and cough in protest but cannot cajole a legitimate note, much less a tune. I offer to buy a flute, if he would teach me something. Anything. The boy smiles a boy's smile ... honest and damning. As I walk away with a piece of bamboo, he continues playing his flute.