Matt was slowly coming round to the idea that maybe he was made to write songs about longing. He had tried briefly to switch genres, but found that the slow, almost bluesy, jazzy songs just hit better, for his own soul.

His brown eyes flick outside the window idly, as he runs a hand through fluffy brown hair. Matt tapped his pencil gently against the cream of the notebook paper, thinking of new things to write about. Being a singer songwriter was something he’d always wanted to do, and especially with his new album doing so well in the indie record charts; he wanted to keep momentum. But as he watched the world go by outside; he couldn’t help but wonder what he was missing.