The old man pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed dramatically. "Well, it just so happens that I am running a very strict, unadvertised clearance sale today. Only for left-handed people or people wearing blue shirts." Leo looked down at his faded blue t-shirt and grinned.
Leo thanked the shop owner profusely, slung the gig bag over his shoulder, and walked out into the afternoon sunlight. He didn't just feel like he was carrying a piece of wood and steel; he felt like he was carrying his entire future.
Leo had precisely seventy-eight dollars and fifty cents tucked inside a weathered envelope. For six months, he had mowed lawns, raked leaves, and skipped school lunches to save up for his first real instrument. buy guitar
The sound that filled the small shop was warm, rich, and full of sustain. It was infinitely better than the cheap, plastic-feeling guitars he had tried before. He transitioned to a C chord, then a D chord, losing himself completely in the resonance of the instrument. For a moment, the world outside the shop disappeared.
Arthur looked at the pile of money, then looked back at the guitar, which was marked on the tag for one hundred and twenty dollars. He looked at Leo's hopeful but nervous eyes and saw the raw passion reflecting back at him. Arthur remembered being that same age, desperately wanting his first guitar. The old man pushed his glasses up his
Leo pushed the door open. A brass bell chimed overhead. The shop smelled heavily of aged wood, lemon oil, and old guitar amplifiers.
"The price for this specific guitar today," Arthur said with a wink, "is exactly seventy-eight dollars. Which leaves you with fifty cents for a soda on the way home." Leo thanked the shop owner profusely, slung the
"Take good care of her," Arthur said. "And make sure you practice every day."