He is marooned, a castaway in a desert of cement and steel, his old life little more than a blur of vague memory. He has no wallet, no cash, no cards.
His fingers dance over the guitar strings, subtle and gentle. The notes that emerge are like nothing that anyone here has ever heard before: an elemental wave of sound that reverberates over the paving stones.
He closes his eyes – the ones that seem green or blue or purple depending on how the light hits them – and listens to the dancing notes, feeling them in his soul, their rise and fall.
This he thinks, is the only way I can survive in this world of theirs.
He opens his lips. The song that springs forth is like the first flowers of spring.
Coins and bills fall into his bag as he plays on.
He will not starve tonight.
Word Count: 148
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Sunayana MoiPensieve for providing the prompt photo!