“What’s your name?” the man asked softly.
“Daniel.”
“Where did you learn that?”
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“My mother taught me… before she got sick.”
The room shifted.
Something broke open.
“I used to play in the subway,” he continued quietly. “Sometimes people listened. Sometimes they didn’t.”
“Why did you stop?” the man asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“Because playing didn’t pay for medicine.”
No one had an answer for that.