It has been over four years since I last played the oboe in public.
This weekend, I will perform again.
I’m nervous, but my teacher tells me not to worry.
“When was the last time that an angry mob rose up and shouted LYNCH THE OBOEIST! while brandishing pitchforks and torches? They only do that angry mob thing to mad scientists and witches.”
When was the last time?
Four years ago. In a town far, far away.
I had a different name. A different face.
And a different oboe.
But just in case, I’ll keep my bags packed and ready.