Striking the Low E

I planted both feet firmly on the edge of the woven ottoman and reached out for the thick bronze string of the acoustic guitar leaning nearby. Grasping the wound metal wire with both hands, I pulled back hard and released. The snap unleashed a deep, rumbling chord that reverberated straight through the hollow wooden body and shook the floorboards beneath me. Fine dust motes scattered across the polished spruce soundboard, dancing in the morning light to the lingering hum. One decisive pluck proved this corner has the acoustic punch of a real amphitheater.