I sip my tea and cross my legs. I look at her, see the amusement dancing in her eyes. "Are you ready to pose?" Sheepish grin. "I don't think it will g...t easier if I wait." I set the cup down, rise, and fumble with the top button of my blouse. She also rises, takes my hands in hers, lifts one to kiss the fingertips one at a time. Leans in to unfasten the buttons. Tugs the shirt out of my skirt, slides it off my shoulders. She leans in and kisses me softly on the side of my neck, stroking my back. There they were; the feel and smell of the wood, the sharpness of the strings against his calloused fingers, and the weight hanging from his shoulder, all sensations he had dearly missed. It did not feel like his old guitar, but it felt right, it felt true, as if he wasn’t holding it, so much as it had snapped into place.He closed his eyes and forced out all of the surrounding noises as he ran through his musical archive. What should he play to this city, gripped by madness? What rhythm would. More

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