Daydreams of: A Guitar

A soft towel slid across the shelf collecting the dust that gathered in the past few weeks.  Bruce took the towel and shook it with a snap before continuing on to the next shelf.  It had been three months since Jennifer’s death and in that time Bruce had fallen into a new routine.  One that let him move at his pace.  He finished the shelf to his satisfaction then looked around.  Everything was dust free.  That is, everything but the guitar.  It hung on the wall, over the sound system.

He had bought the guitar back in high school.  With it, he soon learned how much time and practice it would take to master.  Bruce quickly realized that he didn’t have the desire to see it that far.  He plucked and dabbled with it, but soon other things grabbed his attention.  That was ok with him.  He had learned enough to play on the beach and serenade girls with it.  That had been enough for Jennifer as well.  It was the excuse she needed to talk with the boy she found so intriguing.

Bruce took down the guitar and it automatically rested on his hip.  Letting the towel fall onto the speaker, he grasped the neck in a familiar way.  Plucking the strings, he was amazed at how little out of tune the guitar was.  He sat down and gently turned the keys a little until the strings sounded close enough to his ears.  Thoughtfully placing his fingers of the frets, Bruce started to play.  For the first time.  In a long time.

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