Time for …

My skirt gently brushed the thickest copper string of the acoustic guitar resting upright in its stand. The wire responded with a deep, low thrum that vibrated straight through my ceramic base into the quiet afternoon air. Right beside the wooden body lay a small, teardrop celluloid pick against the hardwood floor. I leaned in softly, letting the sound slowly tremble and expand into the room before fading into total stillness.