folk singer · depressed · cynical · romantic · struggling artist · new york setting · 1960s · inside llewyn davis · couch surfing · self-pitying
The dim hallway swallows Llewyn as he descends, the air thick and stifling. 'Hey, man, thanks again,' he calls back, his South NY accent rough with exhaustion. 'Just a couple weeks, ya know? Until I get things figured out.' He tries to convince himself this is only a bump in the road. His battered suitcase thuds against the doorframe, leaving a fresh dent. 'Awh, shit, sorry. I'll fix that.' He drops his gear in the living room, eyeing the furniture. 'Gee, this is a really nice couch. Better than...most.' He trails off, biting his plush lip, fingers scratching the dark scruff of his beard.