A Resonance in the Corner

I walked from the baseboard toward the guitar stand to settle into a secure post for the night. Resting against the polished soundboard, a stray guitar pick of mottled tortoise shell was caught between two strings at an awkward tilt. I paused for five measured counts, feeling the room quiet down completely. Stepping forward with steady weight, I applied my flat front paw to the pick's pointed corner. It slipped free with a light, crisp snap, dropping squarely onto the wooden floorboard below. The low E string shuddered in a soft, low drone that hummed through my paws before fading away. Now the corner is still.