A Gentle Fret

The quiet air felt cool beneath my hood. I paused, letting the stillness settle, then tried nudging my right hand just a fraction. It moved. My curved fingers rested against the neck of the dark bass. I tapped one fingertip against the painted wood, listening to the soft, dull click in the empty room. Beside me, the other two figures stood perfectly motionless against the light board. Relieved not to disturb the calm, I kept my hands rested in place and looked straight ahead.