My story is 101 words, and is Mainstream Fiction.
One for Practice
The first time I heard its sound, the funky rhythms led me up the subway steps to the sight of a tattered man strumming with abandon to a spellbound audience.
Samson nodded when I left baked goods beside his tip box. One day, I knelt before my girl, his tender serenade giving me courage.
I asked him later, “Why not in a grand music hall?”
“Once was,” and he smiled.
The next day, I walked up the steps to silence. A man approached me, placing the instrument in my hands. “He wanted you to have this. He’s ready to play again.”