A ray of sunlight breaking through the leaves warmed his shoulders. The scent of blooming lilacs filled the air, and a light breeze rustled the leaves of the old oaks.

We strolled through our favorite park, enjoying the silence and beauty of the surrounding world. Tall trees, a light cool breeze that dispels the heat. And suddenly, from behind the curve of the alley, came the melodious plucking of guitar strings.

The music was light, relaxed, with a slight hint of melancholy. You stopped, fascinated by the sounds. A young man sitting on a bench under a spreading chestnut tree was playing with his eyes closed, completely immersed in the performance. His fingers glided over the fingerboard with amazing grace. he had obviously been playing the guitar for a long time and knew how to control it.

You stood there, mesmerized, hardly breathing. When the last note died away, there was silence, interrupted only by the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves. You were about to leave when you heard, — «Wait, miss, can I talk to you?»

You turned around. A young man with a guitar on his lap, slightly embarrassed, but with a smile on his face, looked at you. His eyes were the color of the sky on a cloudless summer day or a warm sea breeze, and his hair, blond as the sun, tousled by the wind, fell over his forehead.