The exact moment the busker’s song lands

It’s 3:47 a.m. and I just played ‘Landslide’ on the corner by the old library. Not because it was planned, but because my hands remembered it. The guy in the blue coat stopped dead mid-stride, then turned back like he’d been punched in the chest. No money, no nod—just stood there with his eyes shut. That’s the thing they don’t tell you: it’s not about the notes, it’s about the silence between them. And how one person can hear a whole life in three seconds.