You Are at a Pub Someplace

You are at a pub someplace, and there's one guy on the stage with a guitar, his voice angelic, and you've come to this gig on a sort of whim, someone recommended him to you a little while ago. this guy plays the pub circuit a bit, and he takes you to another place, you feel the love, the heart, in his music, and the crowd seem hushed throughout, and you're a little stoned, a little languid, and then you look across at the guy next to you, just an average-looking bloke, a shadow of facial hair on his jawline, a tear trickling down his face as he watches the guy on stage sing his heart out, and you feel a tear warm your cheek as the singer howls the finish to his song, slashing his arm across the front of his guitar, his voice fading into the microphone as his mouth covers it whole. The crowd claps their hands above their heads and the guy next to you rubs his eye and drinks from his tumbler.