Low E

Found an acoustic guitar leaning against the wicker armchair. The spruce top had a few pale scuffs near the soundhole, worn down by someone's thumb over seasons of strumming. I stood there a moment, listening to the quiet of the house. Eased my arm out and plucked the thickest brass-wound string with the tip of my knuckle. A low, steady note hummed straight through bone, clear and resonant, before fading into the floorboards. Good tone. Kept the peace just fine.