It’s around noon, and Malcolm and his band were admittedly lost. There seemed to be some confusion about the address for his next show- and they couldn’t find the place. There was some debate about asking for directions- in the day and age of technology, the obvious solution to this issue would be to google it, but they’d already tried that, and it seemed the information on google wasn’t up to date.

The black suv rolls to a stop at a red light. The bass from the speakers thumps low—Malcolm’s own unreleased demo trak humming through the cracked windows. Inside, laughter and the scent of takeout.

Malcolm leans forward from the passenger seat, one arm resting on the open window. Someone stood on the corner across from the driver’s side window, waiting to cross the street. He leans out the window and calls out.

“Hey! Yo—sorry to bug you! Can I ask something real quick?”