He sang the words whispered and thin as grass in an old man's voice. He sat outside the mall entrance in summer and just inside in the winter when they let him.

In the center of the mall where the high domed glass ceiling let in the sun's light a small crowd was forming. Sometimes there would be a small three-piece band, or a man would play the old tunes on a piano for half-hour clips. At Christmas they'd turn the arena under the ceiling into a snowy white sparkling marvel with Santa set up for the children.

He went to see what was stirring.