A Resonance in Waiting

I slipped back inside from the fountain as night took the streets. In the corner of the room, a full-sized acoustic guitar rested on its tubular metal stand. Its thick bronze low E string caught the edge of a stray shadow, waiting in silence. I climbed onto the felt base of the stand, bracing my boot against the curved bracket. Reaching upward with both hands, I nudged the lowest string just enough to set the brass bridge vibrating. The deep, heavy boom rolled through the spruce wood and straight into my chest, a vast and patient pulse that took whole seconds to die away. Now, the quiet is complete.