The man stood near the street sign, wrapped in a trench coat, as I drove through the intersection, his eyes following me and mine gazing at him. I had plans to deliver some drinks to my homeless friends, who lingered in a group at the next corner, so I kept going. After much laughter and chatting, the group dispersed, and I drove back up the same street. That’s when I noticed a guitar case resting upright by the stop sign, waiting for someone to come back and claim it.