The metal rungs of the fire escape made a dull clanking sound as the man's worn work boots collided with them in a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sound echoed in the small space between two brick walls. There wasn't much wind between the apartment buildings, but Caleb knew that when he reached the roof there would be a friendly spring breeze to ruffle his already-messy hair. He didn't stand out in any way physically; if one was to think of a working class man in his mid-twenties, Caleb imagined they would picture him exactly as he was then. Unshaven, medium build, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing a graphic T-shirt and a pair of faded, frayed jeans. Well-worn work boots to completed the ensemble. The only outwardly extraordinary thing about Caleb, as far as he was concerned, was the guitar case slung across his back; the only reason anyone would give him a second look.
Within that guitar case was his only salvation; his only escape from the mundane reality that he had somehow found himself ensnared in. Warehouse inventory, sleep and the occasional beer with the guys were all just background noise next to music. He had never been formally taught, but if anyone had ever heard him play, they would have said he was gifted. Caleb didn't care one way or the other, though. How good or bad someone was at playing mattered none to him compared to whether or not the music came from the heart.
As he reached the top of the fire escape and stepped onto the gravel on the roof, Caleb felt that familiar breeze he had known would arrive, and smiled as he took his usual place on a crate near the edge of the roof facing the street. He opened the worn black guitar case, the latches making a dull thudding sound as they came undone for what must have been the millionth time. He removed his black Alvarez acoustic guitar from its velvet bed carefully, savoring the feel of it on his leg as he tuned it by ear. The guitar was pristine, the same as it had been when his father had given it to him at the age of 12, but tonight it felt different somehow. As he brought the high E string up half a step to match the low, Caleb began listening for more than just the hum of the string he was tuning.
Silence was all that met his ears as he strained them. It was wrong, somehow. The guitar felt so heavy in his hands. His heart was heavier still. Suddenly a vivid image flashed through his mind, one of a pretty blonde girl with bright green eyes shaking her head sadly at him before closing the door he had knocked on just minutes before. It was all wrong; he never thought about Sarah while he was on his roof. This was supposed to be his escape from all the pain and hardship of life. How had it caught up to him? He sat still in the silence for another minute, trying to understand how he had never noticed how lonely it was up on that roof. How had he ever been so joyful and carefree while sitting alone and playing notes he didn't even know the names of?
There was only one thing he could think to do; Caleb began playing a song he had heard years ago on the radio. It was one of his favorites, guaranteed to bring a smile to his face. It was a song about summertime. But once again, he was struck by how empty the world seemed. His voice sounded flat, his playing seemed sloppy though it was no different than normal. Caleb's throat closed; probably a good thing, or he might have screamed in anguish. Somehow, the magic had abandoned him for a night.
His boots creaked as they took on his weight. The guitar case thudded closed. The gravel scraped with his footsteps as he made his way across the roof to the fire escape and descended. Maybe the next time would be different, he thought.
A door leading to the roof from the interior stairwell of the apartment building creaked open shortly after Caleb's head disappeared from view. A girl of twenty three stepped hesitantly onto the gravel surface. She had long, dark hair and deep, wide brown eyes. She was stunning, though no one in her life had ever managed to convince her of that fact after an abusive relationship in her teenage years. Her lips were parted slightly as she took a quiet breath of the evening air and searched for the man to whom the familiar voice belonged. She had listened to that voice every week for months. She had heard his music one night through her window on the top floor facing the street, and ever since then she had spent her Sunday evenings sitting next to that open window, her arms around her knees, eyes closed, and a smile on her face as she listened to him singing his heart.
It had taken Rachel all those weeks simply to work up the courage to come and listen to him in person. She wasn't sure if it was possible to love someone you have never seen before, but whatever she felt for the singing man was not something she could ignore. That night she had decided that she was tired of being alone in her apartment, and tired of not knowing the face of the one making that beautiful music. She looked all over the roof for him; maybe he had moved to a different side. After a minute, though, she was forced to conclude that he had decided not to show up that week. She listened for another moment, and heard only silence. It was as if she was the only person on Earth that night. As Rachel walked back toward the door leading inside, she wondered if the singing man felt as lonely as she did on that roof. She hoped he didn't; whoever he was, he didn't deserve to feel alone.
As the roof door closed behind Rachel, an ordinary-looking man carrying a guitar case slowly rounded the corner, his eyes on the ground. Then, he was gone.
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