High Hopes

It has been a week. No booze, cigarettes, or bars. To keep him away from it, Pink played his guitar. He played it fiercely. Like he used too. Every album created with the band ran through his head. It was all coming back to him. His wrist had since scarred, leaving him the reminder of what can happen if he slips off this new found path. In this past week, Pink thought about getting back to london. David was there. Not only would he get his son back, but in attempts, he thought he could make up for the past two decades of hate.

So pink played his songs. He even went and sat on the street corner and played his music. People came and watched. One person, which Pink fancied, was a girl named Kindra. She was on her way to the cas de waffle. She stopped and listened to a song that made the top ten nearly thirty years ago. She knew the lyrics. Pink had found enjoyment in his popularity as a  musician. Although, he only saw here for a quick minute, his faith in humanity was rekindled. She left a dollar in his guitar case. He played a strong riff as she walked off. He almost wish he could be with her. He returned to the music. A request came in. It was his favorite song to play.


“So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.”

For the first time, Pink felt elated. The crowd around him was pleased. He realized that he had actually made some money, just like the old days. Back at the apartment, which was clean, Pink thought about his trip. What would he do when he saw his son? There was a knock at the door. Pink answered but no one was there. He looked down and saw a plane ticket.

“That should get you started.”
“Holy shit Dad,” pink yelled as he turned around.
“I told you I’d be back when you got your life straight.”
“This ticket is for tonight”
“The sooner the better son.”
“So what will i do when I get there”
“That’s easy, you will get your son back. I know it will happen that way. He has been waiting a long time for his real father. David has watched him long enough.”
“So i just take him.”
“You are meeting David at the O2”
“Isn’t that a concert venue.”
“Your band will reunite, thousands will be there to watch you make amends.”
“We haven’t played together for such a long time.”
“Pink, you aren’t the only one who has practiced these songs fopr the past 20 years. you have to do this. It is your fate.”

And with a flash he was gone. Pink feared this plan. He hadn’t played in front of a crowd that large since The Floyd had broken up. This fear brought temptation back into Pink. He went and looked for booze and cigarettes. He couldn’t find any. He broke down, sat in his chair, and thought about what to do next.