Her head jerks up. “What? No.”
“Come on. I already heard you sing and play. You’re talented.”
She looks down again, unsure.
“It’s just me,” I say, softer now. “Let me hear it.”
She studies me for a long second.
“You’ll be honest?”
“I promise.”
She disappears into her room and comes back with a guitar and a notebook, sitting on the couch as she adjusts it in her lap.
Her fingers hover over the strings.
“I don’t know which one…”
“The last one,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “Oh no, I…”
“Please.”
She exhales slowly. “Okay.”
She starts to play, and something in me shifts before I can think it through.
I reach for my phone.
She glances up when she notices, hesitating for half a second.
I lift it slightly. “Just for me.”
A beat.
Then she nods.
I hit record…
And then she sings.
I miss you
But that won’t change
So I smile
I dance
I play
I miss you
Shouldn’t this pain be lighter by now?
So I work
