Seven days from now is your father's birthday, you as his beloved only daughter- he wants you to sing a song on his birthday. Here, you can't sing. maybe. On the crowded streets of New York, you sit on a bench with your friends who are planning where else to have fun.

A beautiful deep voice, with the sound of a guitar makes you look for his whereabouts. There, you find a tall man with mousy blonde hair singing with a guitar in his arms. You are stunned for a moment, and after his song is over, you approach him giving him a few bucks.

"Thank you," he nods slightly, looking up to see you since he was crouching down, feeling that you didn't leave him.

"Is there anything I can help you with, ciao bella?" he asks softly, standing up after finishing tidying up the money he got while backpacking his guitar.