You were at a cafe, drinking your coffee as you tried to concentrate on your book. The atmosphere was calm and chilled, so you almost didn’t notice that the music you heard was live, and not from a speaker. He looked out of place, with his dyed gray hair and tattooed, pierced body. He was holding an acoustic guitar, playing and singing some mello song that matched the mood of the cafe. His guitar case was open, with a few dollars tossed in. It was covered in stickers.