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Once upon a time in a very busy city, on a very busy street, in two very small apartments, lived Herman Schubert and Rosie Bloom.
Herman lived on the seventh floor. He liked pot plants, playing the oboe, wild boysenberry yoghurt, the smell of hotdogs in the winter and watching films about the ocean.
Rosie lived on the fifth floor in the building next door. She liked pancakes, listening to old jazz records, the summertime subway breeze, toffees that stuck to her teeth, singing on the fire escape...and watching films about the ocean.
Herman and Rosie liked living in the city. There were days when all the buzzing and honking and humming made them feel like anything was possible.
But often the city was a lonely place.
Herman worked in a tall building in an office on the fifty-first floor. He spent all day on the phone selling things. Not everyone wanted to buy 'a thing'. But this didn't matter to Herman. He just loved having someone to talk to.
Rosie worked uptown in a fine restaurant. In the afternoons she rode to singing lessons.
On Thursday nights she sang for two hours at a small downtown jazz club. It was the highlight of her week.
One day on his way home from work, Herman heard a noise. It wasn't a normal city noise. It was a different kind of noise. Someone was singing... And it was wonderful. It made him feel like he had eaten honey straight from the jar.
That night, with the singing in his head, Herman took his oboe to the roof and played a groovy little jazz number.
In the building next door, Rosie began to hum and her toes began to tingle. Oboe music filled the room. It was the most splendid sound she had ever heard. And it stayed in her head (like good tunes do). She hummed it as often as she could, so it didn't fade away.
For days it seemed that the music was following them. Herman kept hearing that beautiful voice and Rosie kept hearing that groovy tune. Everywhere.
Then, one morning, Herman arrived at work to find that he had lost his job. He just wasn't selling enough things. Herman thought he had sold lots of things, but in truth he was so happy to be talking to someone he often forgot about the selling part.
That evening at The Mangy Hound jazz club, Rosie sang up a storm. But there was no one there to hear it. After her set, Rosie was given some bad news. The club was closing down.
Herman left his office for the last time. He didn't feel like playing his oboe that night.
And Rosie didn't feel like singing. The city felt busier and louder and darker than usual.
Herman Schubert sat in his small apartment eating pretzels. To cheer himself up he decided to watch his entire Jacques Cousteau underwater film collection. Packet away neatly under the bed sat Herman's oboe.
Rosie Bloom stood in the kitchen of her small apartment making pancakes. Lots of pancakes. Way more than she could ever possibly eat. That didn't make her feel any better, so she sat down and watched her entire Jacques Cousteau underwater film collection.
Days and nights and weeks inched by. Rosie lost her voice to the sounds of the city and Herman lost the urge to play his oboe. The city kept on moving, but everything had fallen out of tune.
Then one morning something was different. Rose woke suddenly - she needed toffee that stuck to her teeth! Herman woke suddenly - he had a craving for wild boysenberry yoghurt!
It was such a beautiful day outside that Herman soon forgot his yoghurt and Rosie forgot her toffee. Instead they walked...and walked...
Until they both ended up at the same place, where they had a hotdog. Then they both walked home.
That night Herman got out his oboe from under his bed and headed to the roof. The city seemed pleased to see him. Even its rattles and honks sounded musical. Rosie was cooking and feeling strangely happy when she heard the familiar sounds of a groovy little jazz number. She dropped the frypan. She just had to follow that tune. Out... up... and over... until...
One upon a time in a very busy city, on a very busy street, on top of a very tall building, Rosie found Herman. And Herman found Rosie. The city was never quite the same.