Troy

I yawn, a deep powerful yawn, as I finally clip the last buckle on my guitar case. The booze fragrance that surrounds me has made me drowsy, since I’m usually not this tired at 11. The flicking neon signs, Guinness posters, and 80’s rock playing seemed to surround me. It was certainly an interesting environment. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a nervous figure, standing a handful of meters behind me, one hand clutching there forearm. Um… do you need something?