Gemotions

The echo of the guitar from the open window drifted through the thin walls of his apartment. It was *his* song, being played by the neighbor's kid, a boy with messy hair and a guitar nearly as old as he was. He found himself standing, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the music that was leaking into his home.

The music was off key, the notes slightly wrong. It was a clumsy, amateur version. And he didn't care. He sat back down on his worn couch, the sound a persistent background hum. He picked up his guitar, the strings dusty and untuned. He didn't bother to pick it up. He just sat, listening.