He didn't have a plan. He only had the song in his blood and the instrument in his hand. As he pushed the door open, the bell chimed in perfect harmony with the final, fading chord of the track. He walked to the stage, sat on the lone wooden stool, and laid his fingers across the strings.
As the song reached its crescendo, the rain began to fall. It wasn't a gentle mist; it was a deluge that turned the world into a smear of watercolor blues and greys. Lucas closed his eyes, let the intricate fingerpicking guide his pulse, and felt the phantom weight of a legacy he didn't yet understand. He didn't have a plan
The rhythmic click of the train tracks provided a steady percussion for the melody bleeding from Lucas’s headphones. "Tears in the Rain" by Guitarra Azul filled his head, the Spanish guitar weaving a tapestry of longing that matched the blurred neon of the city outside the window. He walked to the stage, sat on the