The Guitar Player

He was the first one in the band room and breathed in a sigh of relief. Perfect, it would give him enough time to get some practice in.

He took his guitar from his case, tuned it, and sat down in a corner of the room. Then, he played.

His full attention was in his music. His brow was furrowed, his hair danced with his strumming, and his eyes were closed as he let himself be taken away by each movement of his fingers.

This was his moment, his letting go, his possession, his breath, his life. With each strum, he was brought back to his past, and with each flourish, his future.

As he stopped to take a breath, he suddenly heard the sound of clapping.

He quickly turned and saw that it was the shy little violin girl of the band, who must have come in while he was in the middle of his jamming session. She blushed when he faced her.

“You’re really good. Please don’t stop,” she said, not looking at him.

He stopped, then nodded her way. She shyly sat down next to him, watching him tune his guitar once more. With a smile, he kept playing.

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First written February 25, 2018.


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