<p style="text-align: left;">Today, as the sweltering heat set in, I had gone out to buy some things I cherish, but I encountered an unexpected situation that prevented me from making the purchase, and I was returning home feeling a bit down. As I slowed down at a red light at the intersection, I noticed an elderly man wearing sunglasses playing a saxophone in the left corner of the intersection. The instrument was completely worn out, with rusted gold accents on the buttons, exterior, and mouthpiece that stood out against the age. I slowly rolled down my car window. Then, a marvelous melody began to drift in—a performance filled with his life—surging toward me like the tide. Before I knew it, I pulled a bill out of my wallet and said to him as he approached, “I’m sorry for interrupting your performance.” He looked at me over his dark glasses, smiled, and said, “I like this car,” pointing at my vehicle. Then he returned to his spot and began playing again. But this time, he turned the mouthpiece of his saxophone toward me and began to play while swaying. I alternated my gaze between the old man and the traffic light, and when the light turned green, I drove forward and waved. Then, when I looked in the rearview mirror, he was playing that old saxophone tune for my receding car. For a while, his music followed my car.</p>
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