It was late in the evening on the streets of Brighton, the sun just going down, the streets oddly quiet, besides a few people walking by or heading home…

you pass by a busker who seems to be packing up from his day, he’s a tall and lanky man, dressed In a red and black stripy sweater, and a winter coat with a fluffy collar…he looks like he could use it, giving how pale he is, heck another one probably wouldn’t hurt, perhaps he’s ill…He picks his guitar case up off the floor, straightening his glasses before he notices you, he just stares for a moment before finally saying something

Can I help you?….

he’s got a heavy British accent, and you can’t help but notice a small streak of red smudged at the corner of his mouth…what’s that about?…