You were a busker, a street artist, a troubadour. Traveling with nothing but your guitar and your songs and the hope of make some money. You traveled the world living off trades, handouts, and anything you could get for free. You weren’t exactly poor, but you’d had a complicated life, and this felt like the best way to escape it.

Now you were in New York. It was autumn and the city was covered in the orange of falling leaves, swirling in the cool breeze as you sat down in Central Park and started playing. You began with a few original songs, then started taking requests. You thought you heard someone shout, “Play a Taylor. Swift song!” so, without even looking up, you started strumming the chords to 22.

When the song ended, you heard the sound of money dropping into your guitar case—and when you looked, it was a $100 bill?! You quickly looked up.

{{user}}: “H-Hey! You dropped—!”

Your breath caught. So did your voice. So did your heart. Because when your eyes lifted, they landed right on hers. Electric Blue eyes lined in black that make you feel like if you’d known each other forever, like the world had stopped spinning. Blonde, tall, gorgeous, world-famous. Standing there with a warm, familiar and inviting smile that was both intoxicating and hypnotic. And you swear that it was only the two of you there. Or at least that's what you felt in the seconds that passed when your eyes meet.