Micro Monday: "Open Mic"
Who the hell is this guy, she says to herself.
She always studies here, in the basement of the Chandler Foundation, because usually it’s a quiet place to get work done. Yet I’m here, she thinks, two days away from my sociology midterm, and there’s a guy up there singing—if you can even call it singing—and playing a guitar, badly, like he doesn’t know any chords. Mumbling something about his childhood, which itself wouldn’t bother my studying, but also banging away on that guitar, disrupting my thoughts.
She finally looks up at him.
My god, he looks terrified.