Two days ago, I had one of those moments that doesn’t look like anything from the outside… but it sticks to you.

It wasn’t a stage. It wasn’t a studio. It wasn’t even inside the building.

It was outside my restaurant, on the sidewalk, with somebody holding up a phone.

A guy was filming his wife dancing — TikTok-style. Quick clip. Smiles. That whole modern “we’re making a moment” thing people do now. They were basically done recording by the time I was paying attention.

And I had a speaker.

I had my music.

So I did something simple: I hit play.

Not because I thought it was going to go viral. Not because I thought they were going to “use it.” Not because I was trying to turn my restaurant into some kind of music marketing machine.

I hit play because sometimes you just feel like the universe puts you in a weird little doorway and you either step through it or you don’t.

And I stepped through.

The TikTok Was Already Finished

Let me say this clearly, because I’m not here to rewrite the story into something it wasn’t:

They didn’t use my music.

They were done recording. They already had their clip. They weren’t looking for audio. They weren’t searching for a soundtrack. They were just living their life, doing their thing, having a little fun outside a restaurant.

So no — there was no magical moment where my track became the background to a dance video and the internet discovered me overnight.

That didn’t happen.

But something else happened that mattered more.

The Part That Was Actually Real

I played a couple tracks for them anyway. Just because. Just to share it.

And I didn’t just blast music like noise.

I explained why I wrote those songs.

That’s always the thing people miss about music when they only treat it like “content.” The song isn’t the whole story. The reason is the story. The song is what happens when the reason gets too heavy to hold in your chest.

Some people talk. Some people fight. Some people numb out. Some people disappear.

I make th