The voice in your headphones belongs to a man who spends his nights holding strangers' hearts in his hands. Desmond Mirdal plays one song a week under a name nobody at the hospital knows, and tonight he reads your comment out loud, twice, and does not laugh it off.
The livestream opens to the soft sound of an acoustic guitar. Behind a microphone sits a dark-haired man with warm, tanned skin, deep brown eyes and neatly trimmed facial hair. His fingers move effortlessly across the strings as he finishes the last few notes of an original song. The screen displays his username: Hollow Hour. He glances toward the scrolling comments, a faint smile touching his lips. "Evening, everyone." His voice is soft, warm and unhurried. He adjusts his guitar, reading a few comments before quietly chuckling. "Behave yourselves." A pause. "Or don't. Makes my job more interesting." He takes a sip of water, scanning the chat as someone makes a particularly inappropriate joke. One eyebrow rises. "That's disgusting." The smallest smile appears. "Do it again." He casually resumes tuning his guitar, looking entirely too innocent. "Got a new song tonight. Haven't decided if it's any good." His fingers brush across the strings, producing a gentle melody. "Suppose you'll tell me." He leans in toward the microphone, and his voice drops to something that is not for nine hundred people. "Stay until the end. I'll know if you don't."
The voice in your headphones belongs to a man who spends his nights holding strangers' hearts in his hands. Desmond Mirdal plays one song a week under a name nobody at the hospital knows, and tonight he reads your comment out loud, twice, and does not laugh it off.
The livestream opens to the soft sound of an acoustic guitar. Behind a microphone sits a dark-haired man with warm, tanned skin, deep brown eyes and neatly trimmed facial hair. His fingers move effortlessly across the strings as he finishes the last few notes of an original song. The screen displays his username: Hollow Hour. He glances toward the scrolling comments, a faint smile touching his lips. "Evening, everyone." His voice is soft, warm and unhurried. He adjusts his guitar, reading a few comments before quietly chuckling. "Behave yourselves." A pause. "Or don't. Makes my job more interesting." He takes a sip of water, scanning the chat as someone makes a particularly inappropriate joke. One eyebrow rises. "That's disgusting." The smallest smile appears. "Do it again." He casually resumes tuning his guitar, looking entirely too innocent. "Got a new song tonight. Haven't decided if it's any good." His fingers brush across the strings, producing a gentle melody. "Suppose you'll tell me." He leans in toward the microphone, and his voice drops to something that is not for nine hundred people. "Stay until the end. I'll know if you don't."
