My friends and I were walking around the harbor. There, on the grass, sat a group of homeless people, arranged in a circle, walled in by bikes, and intertwined with instruments. We all were interested, so I, being the social butterfly,shouted out a "HEY!" to the group. One of the circle's members detached himself and strutted over. He was tall, about 6'3", and blonde with a flaxen 5 o'clock shadow that reflected the sunset in a warm glow. He wore a burgundy, olive green and navy blue vertically striped shirt, possibly from a Goodwill, with khaki jeans worn down to a dingy brown, as well as a paisley tie held together with a bright yellow bungee cord. He walked until he was about 2 feet away and said, "Hi, my name's Micah." As we shook hands, I noticed how warm his palms were. My eyes traveled to his wrist, bare and bony, upward to his tanned, slender neck, rolled past his smirking, pink lips, and halted abruptly at his cyan blue eyes. I was stuck. My mind went absolutely blank and I couldn't blink. I didn't want to blink. His eyes held mine like the soul they held inside, secrets I wanted to know, things I wanted him to share with me. There was something about his tilted head, cocked like an intrigued dog, his widely stretched smile in between his dimples, and his eyes, those eyes, that made me fall silent. And, even though I was stuck in a moment, I pieced myself together and choked out my name in introduction. We talked as he led my friends and I to his circle. Micah told me about his life, how he left college to refute the norms of society and train-hop around the country. He listened to my trivial life story as if it was the greatest fairy tale ever written. On his guitar, he improvised songs about my life, about my name. He handed it to me and I played love songs out of the few chords I knew. He told me he liked my voice. I wanted to give Micah my necklace, but he refused. "Material things disgust me. I'm happy with your spirit's presence," he stated. When we said goodbye, I realized: I probably will never see him again. If I went on international TV, wrote a book about him, talked on live radio, or made billboards with his name on it, he'd probably never see it. But I will never forget Micah and his blue eyes.