Just watches.
Serious.
Always serious in that way kids get when they’re trying to understand something bigger than they are.
I strum once.
The sound is rough.
Unpolished.
The strings buzz slightly because the instrument’s cheap and the room’s acoustics aren’t doing me any favors.
Still—
It’s music.
And something in my chest shifts.
I haven’t felt this in a while.
Not like this.
No stage.
No lights.
No expectation.
Just—
Sound.
I play a few more chords, testing the shape of it, letting my fingers remember what they’re supposed to do.
Jesse tilts his head.
“Again.”
“You are a very demanding audience.”
He doesn’t smile.
“Again,” he insists.
I shake my head, but I play.
A little smoother this time.
A little more deliberate.
The notes settle into something resembling a pattern, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m building on it.
Adding.
Layering.
Letting it grow.
