You hold Lin for several minutes, and Lin holds you, but then Lin gently shrinks back. He is no longer crying, but his breath is wheezed and his face, still slick with tears He sits for a moment, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't cry, Lin." You say, which is pretty hypocritical, considering your voice cracks halfway through the sentence because you were just sobbing.

The skeletal man looks at your for a moment and opens his mouth to say something, when he remembers that he's lost his voice, he is once again in tears. He picks up the phone and types:

I can't talk.

You nod your head, "Yeah. And you were out in the cold. How long were you lying there?"

Lin shakes his head and types:

I don't know, that's the problem. I'm scared the temperature could've done damage to my vocal chords. It could be temporary. I hope it is.

Lin blinks, and fat tears roll down his cheeks. He opens his mouth, and again, no sound comes. Slowly, defeated, his head sinks into his hands.

You out your hand on his shoulder and say: "Hey, chances are, it's not permanent. It's not a huge deal."

Lin looks up at you with a savage detest and mouths: My career could be over.

On "over", he is once again reduced to sobs. You feel the inexplicable urge to comfort him, and you attempt to, wrapping your arms around his thin chest. As you hold him, your mind drifts back to the events of last night, and the questions you have yet answered.

"Lin?" You say. He looks up at you with glazed eyes. "Why were you sleeping behind that dumpster?" Lin looks away, shrugging and wiping his slick face. You hand the phone to Lin, a way of pressing for an answer. He looks to you mournfully and types:

When I first came here, I roomed with a friend of mine that made it here from our old town. But he succumbed to AIDs last year and I couldnt keep up with the rent. I've been living in the library for the past few months, but a couple of weeks ago, I started coughing really bad at night and the janitor said I could stay there any longer. I had no where else to go.

Your breath lodges in your throat and you heart aches. "Why did you tell me Lin? I would've taken care of you!"

Lin sighs heavily and types:

I couldn't just impose on you like that. You have your own life to live, your own bills to pay. I care for you too much to burden you with my presence.

Which is why I'm going back home. If I can't sing, I have no business here.

Lin sets the phone down, and stands, swaying on the spot. Shaking, he makes his way to your apartment door. You follow him, hastily, and reach him just as the frigid wind bursts into your main room. Grabbing his shoulder, you turn him around to face you.

"You're not a burden, Lin."

Lin opens his mouth, but he can say nothing, for your lips are suddenly in his way.