He always had a guitar slung over his shoulder.
It made people notice him, whether he was walking down a street crowded with harassed workers and staring tourists, or sitting in a bar with a whisky in front of him that he never tasted.
Occasionally someone would ask if they could play it and he would hand it over with a benign smile, tapping a foot along to their chosen music regardless of their talent. They would hand it back with reverence, sharing a nod with the grizzled man.
They never asked him to play.
He didn’t know how.
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