The musician

Just as the 23 year old man arrived at his car in the supermarket parking lot, he paused, tilted his head back and absorbed the air into his nostrils. He had been playing the guitar since fifth grade when he received his first lesson. With his tutors, he had played classically, with his friends he had played hits and alone he loved to write his own songs.

The next day was his first chance to play for a restaurant. He would play for Tamara's Grill and Bar where they ate pub food and drank spirits late into the night the next night. Talent shows and backyard gigs aside, this would be his first concert. He was excited, nervous and proud. He had put together a list of 23 songs to sing, all his own original compositions, one for each year he had been alive. He wanted this to go well. Music was a secret passion of his.

The sunlight turned his eyelids orange and the cool air was like a sip of water for his sore throat. He tried to take in everything around him. In doing this, he sought further inspiration for his song and relaxation during this tense period of preparation.