Gemotions

The old, battered guitar leaned against the wall, gathering dust. The wood was faded, scratched. She remembered the countless nights they’d spent in the garage, jamming, dreaming. Their friend, Sam, a charismatic musician, had always told tales of touring the world, filling stadiums.

He was a schoolteacher, it turned out.

She sat down on the floor, the rough wood digging into her back. The memories of their shared musical ambitions washed over her. She picked up the guitar, her fingers tracing the familiar frets. She could almost hear his voice. A deep ache, mixed with fondness, bloomed in her chest, settling heavily. She picked at the strings, the sound thin and reedy.