26″Liam was positioned just off the side of the boardwalk, sitting on the railing. His feet were hooked about the planks of the fence for stability, his long fingers strumming his guitar. There was a small crowd gathered around to listen, but nothing traffic-stopping. He smiled at the crowd, his green eyes shimmering. Music was his life. "Won't you fly back to me, my little lost love," he sang, a few women swooning. "My days are dark and my nights are cold, won't you bring back the sun."
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