The Last Song of the Day

After the crowd dispersed, Mateo sat by the lamppost, guitar resting on his knee.

His tip jar clinked — a few coins, one folded note that read, “Gracias por hoy.”
He smiled, rubbing calloused fingers that once dreamed of stages.
Now, he played for passing hearts instead of applause.
Sometimes, the world still listens — just quietly, through open windows.