his eyes scan the room, looking for something to strike inspiration. finger-picking a light brown guitar with the typical darker brown trim, a musician sings about the death of his best friend. he wonders briefly if how many lyrics are autobiographical. a girl in the corner, attentive through the whole performance, begins to fidget. leading into the second chorus, she takes a quick swipe at her eye, squirms out of her seat and heads towards the bathroom.
a worker with dyed black hair comes from the back room with his jacket. Black Hair Skinny Jeans looks like he's in quite a rush- to a date, maybe with a girl, a guitar, or a courtroom. the couple in the corner smile at each other over the tops of steaming mocha, exchanging looks that can only mean their love is one that "no one else would understand".
he takes out his notebook and pretends to write, wondering if anyone is watching him back.
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