A young woman about his age walks by and openly stares. He is really good-looking, it's true: long-ish, shaggy black hair and strong, straight jawlines and swooping cheekbones, a guitar covered in stickers, an open wound of a guitar case ready to take whatever spare change a friendly soul might feed it.
One year ago: Sleepy
Two years ago: Turn Down for What?
Three years ago: Keep Your Vestments On
Four years ago: In Which I Find that I May Not Be As Awesome As I Think I Am