A Low Resonance

I slipped back inside beneath the draught excluder, leaving the chill behind, and walked toward the dim corner of the living room. Resting in a low floor stand was an acoustic guitar, its honey-toned wooden body catching the amber spill of the floor lamp. I stepped onto the foam-padded crossbar of the stand and reached up, resting both hands against the thick, wound bronze of the lowest string. A deep, gentle hum blossomed through the hollow chamber, vibrating softly under the soles of my shoes. Standing there in the evening hush, letting that patient chime fade into the quiet room, brought a wonderfully peaceful close to the day.