For love

Was walking home one day, through the train station in Princeton, where I met a young man blowing forlornly on his bagpipes.

He asked me if I had a quarter for a train ride to New York, and I promptly informed him that the ride will cost him fifteen dollars.

I asked him what his story was. 'It's a long one.' But he quickly gives me the short version anyway, ending it with, 'For love.'

I gave him a dollar. The next day, I find him still there, still blowing.