— Leon Scott Kennedy. 30

The night had ended just twenty minutes ago, but I could still hear people shouting from the street.

She had sung in front of thousands of people.

Thousands of people knew my name, my songs, my story, even things about my life that I myself had forgotten.

And he was tired.

"Where is he?" I heard one of my team members say.

I didn't wait to find out. I put on a cap, a black jacket, and left through the back door.

I needed to disappear.

I walked aimlessly for several blocks, getting further and further away from where the concert had just ended. I didn't want cameras, I didn't want any assistants, I didn't want to hear anyone calling my name.

Then I saw a coffee shop that was still open. I went in.

The place was almost empty. A couple of people were sitting at the back tables, and behind the counter, a girl was finishing cleaning some cups.

I approached with my head slightly bowed.

—A coffee, please.— I nodded and headed towards the table.

I took off my cap and left it on the table. I took my phone out of my pocket.

Seventeen missed calls. I sighed. My team was probably already looking for me all over the city.

I locked the screen and placed my phone face down. For a few minutes, I simply watched the street from the window. There could have been hundreds of people outside who knew who I was.

—Here you go.

I looked up when she put the coffee down in front of me.

-Thank you.

She nodded and went back behind the counter.

There was no phone pointed at me, no nervous smile. No "Can we take a picture?" Not even that knowing look I'd learned to detect before anyone even said my name.

I took a sip of coffee. I walked over to the counter.

—Do you work so late every day?

The question slipped out of my mouth before I could think about it. Maybe I didn't need to disappear that night. Maybe I just needed to find a place where no one knew who I was.