Plucking Away

Plink. Plunk. Plink. Twang. Just like it had been going for the last hour. When Jenny had been told her new room-mate would be practicing guitar in the room, she had imagined something with some experience. Or at least someone not tone deaf. Seriously, it sounded like that thing hadn’t been tuned ever.

Holly was a great person and had the potential to be a great friend. So Jenny had no interest in discouraging her in this pursuit. She knew how hard it was when first starting anything. But damn was it hard not to snipe at her after the fifth day of relentlessly missed fingerings.

Jenny would offer to help, but it’s not like she was any more experienced. She’d taken piano lessons when she was ten and abandoned them as soon as her mother allowed it. Maybe she could get Holly guitar lessons as a Christmas present?

Twung. Jenny cringed. A really early Christmas present?

Sproing-crack. “Ow!” The cry came from the other room. Another broken string on the guitar, somehow. Empathy warred with the relief that Holly’s playing would be paused, at least for a little while.

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