4/7 Guitar

Mary played her guitar a couple of times a week at a metro station in the city. She had always loved to play since her father had taught her a song or two in her teens. She now played tunes from the pop charts and sometimes old classics.

Today everyone was rushing back and forth, eager to get to work or play as usual. If it weren’t for the scattering of 20p coins in her hat on the floor, she would have thought nobody even noticed she was there. She began to feel distant about the whole experience, why did she lie to herself to say she was enjoying it?

She strummed absently through another couple of British classics, daydreaming of hippies with ribbons in their hair and long summer days. Maybe they knew what life was all about.

As Mary tuned her old acoustic up for the last couple of songs, the low E string snapped. Since she didn’t have another, she sighed and started to put the guitar away. She paused for a second and wondered why she cared about such a trivial thing.

Now the commuters were paying attention to her, now they slowed down and noticed. She had snapped off two more strings and started strumming away with renewed enthusiasm. With three strings remaining on the instrument the sound was bizarre, echoing down the metro tunnels and baffling the bustling crowds.

Mary made little more money that day, but the mixed looks of hundreds of people was priceless.

She left the station and bought herself a pink ribbon for her hair with today’s earnings, wishing it were summer where she could spin in circles and learn what life was all about.