A Gentle Strum

I slipped out through the front door and took a peaceful stroll down the block, following the faint hum of tuned strings into an open music shop. Tucked low on a wooden floor stand, an acoustic guitar rested just above the woven runner. Near its foot lay a smooth, tortoiseshell teardrop pick. I took my time, guiding the pick with both flippers until its tapered tip brushed across the lowest brass string. A deep, mellow vibration swept softly into the air, humming through the wooden body. I rested my flipper against the smooth polished wood, letting the warm note linger.