Short Story: Fishbein, the Piano Tuner
Everyone in our family called the tuner of my daughter’s piano, “the piano tuner,” though his name was Fishbein. He was a brusque man, even for a fellow Viennese, stooped, often wore a checkered jacket which contrasted ridiculously with his formal striped pants, as if he had been a jazz saxophonist at one stage of his life and a concert pianist in another; his polka dotted, cabaret comedian’s tie completed the total mismatch. He arrived, tuned the piano, refused tea and cake (not very Viennese), pleaded that he was late for another piano, grabbed his tuning case and hurried away. Always the same ritual. His statement about being late for another piano caused us to chuckle (after he left) because he spoke of the piano that awaited him like it was a person. [Larry Lefkowitz]
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International, Jewish Fiction, Middle East