The glowing of the moonlight caved in his hippie van. James sat with his legs spread out on the barbecue stained seats of his van, strumming the guitar the moon shone on. He would twist his fingers in all sorts of odd shapes to form chords around the maple wood fretboard and once or twice, would slide his hand up across the higher frets.

The night clubs and the flashing lights of zooming cars of the city would rumble the van but he didn't care, this was how he spent his teenage years. He did this whenever he felt that Nan was yelling too loud or Ma kept nagging him about his career choices.

James never regretted it once.

By theworldisquiethere, April 15, 2015.