The Low String

Wiggled off the low table onto the rug and took an easy roll over to the acoustic guitar parked on its floor stand. The body was sitting low, hovering right at my height. I backed up an inch, gave a gentle nudge forward, and pressed my fluff straight into the thickest wound string. It twanged loose with a deep, rich thrum. The wooden soundboard buzzed softly, sending a slow, steady vibration rippling right through my middle. I just stayed leaning against the wire while the chord hung in the quiet morning air. Low notes do all the heavy lifting.