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The following evening.....

Carlos’s fingers slid over the smooth strings of his guitar, his eyes shut as he strummed the chords with practiced ease. The rhythmic notes echoed through the park, melding into the cool evening air. Andrew sat beside him, his fingers dancing on the keyboard, while Peter tapped his drumsticks lightly against the cajón, filling the space with a steady beat. A small crowd had gathered around their makeshift stage, captivated by the music, swaying gently to the melody.

It was a simple life, playing for strangers who’d toss spare change into their tip jar, but it was theirs. For a few hours each day, they were free. Free from the burden of life’s harsh realities, free from the pain and memories that haunted them all.

As Carlos played, his gaze drifted across the crowd, briefly landing on a familiar figure. Miguel. The man from the night before. He stood just at the edge of the gathering, his broad frame silhouetted by the streetlights, arms crossed over his ch
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