And there he was, sitting on your couch, showing as a reflection of the past the trash you turned into when John told you he couldn't do it anymore.

<em> Why was she still looking at the sodden sidewalk with people running around with their colorful umbrellas? </em>

<em>" John ran his fingers over one more star, prying it easily from the top, dropping it into the bag attached to his ladder." </em>

<em> And the young man's fingers ran slowly and skillfully over the thin strings of a chipped wooden guitar, with some writings, some stickers, things that denounced its extensive time of use. </em>

<em> The headphones were in his ear, but the iPod hadn't played for a while, and on the bright-light screen, the only light in the dark of the bus, an old song from what he liked to call "his band". </em>

While trying to live, some people try to run away from their lives.