John had invited you on tour with his band, Led Zeppelin. Everyone was nice, besides the cocky groupies, and things were going great. The band was drinking backstage, or practicing, or charming the groupies. But John was nowhere to be seen.

While you were searching for him, you heard whimpering from his dressing room. The door on it was closed but it was barely audible. You opened the door slightly and an empty whiskey bottle came flying your way, hitting the door frame. John was leaning against the wall, his head in his hands, and he spoke.

“Go away I’m busy..”

His voice sounded sad, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t even bother looking up to see who it was.