I’d found a stash of milk crates that made a much better seat than my usual perch, and there weren’t many people coming past on account of how late it was.  But near the end of my washing/set, a girl came to the convenience store in a singlet, pyjama pants and a pair of flipflops.  She tied her dog, a medium sized black furry thing, up on the lamppost on my side of the convenience store door and went inside.  On the way out, she came over and spoke to me.

“Where’s your hat?”
What?
“Your hat - for people to put money in.”
Oh, I’m not busking - just doing my laundry.
“Oh - I was going to give you money.”
You can still do that if you want.
“Ok, here you go.  I am going to sit and listen to a song.”

I played Optics as she sat and listened intently.  I was oddly nervous, but equal parts not, lost in the song and sharing it with someone new, someone I didn’t know.  Someone I’d never met until 30 seconds ago but I was telling about one of my greatest losses.  The moment was broken by another girl walking another dog - both considerably bigger than the ones I’d found, and both far less friendly.  While mine tried to avoid having her dog eaten by what could well have been a small angry bitey horse, I wound down to the end of the song.  She decided to go after that - a shame, only 15 seconds left, but at least we missed awkward conversation afterwards.  She thanked me for playing, smiled and walked off home with a skip in her step, talking occasionally to the dog.

I forgot to tell her my name.