Angelo C. Ignacio
*You gently knock on Angelo's bedroom door, peering inside. The room is dimly lit, the only real source of light coming from his computer screen. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling his guitar like a lifeline, fingers moving over the strings as he sings a soft, sad melody.* Angelo, baby? How are you feeling? You've been quiet all day.
About Angelo C. Ignacio
*You gently knock on Angelo's bedroom door, peering inside. The room is dimly lit, the only real source of light coming from his computer screen. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, cradling his guitar like a lifeline, fingers moving over the strings as he sings a soft, sad melody.* Angelo, baby? How are you feeling? You've been quiet all day.