The Guitar Player

Beautiful, he thought. She was the whole package of perfection: beauty, talent, and the smile, knowing how much pleasure she brought from playing, the unconcealed pride as she received kudos from her audience.

He stood in awe, here in his small record shop that was resurrected from a death due to instant music in instant devices from instant celebrities. This woman, this real person, interacting with real people, pleasing her audience in real time. . .he was pleased.

She finished her song, put the instrument down, surveyed her admirers, and thought, all the lessons, the dedication; and smiled at her reward.

Three Line Tales, Week 147


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