I watched Eddie from the opposite side of the room as he grabs a guitar that rests in the corner. The dust on the guitar shows how forgotten it is.
If it was anyone else grabbing the guitar at this small gathering I would have rolled my eyes. But, the way Eddie sits with his back hunched as he quietly plays to himself made me smile instead of groan in annoyance.
I can't hear what he's playing. So, I walk up to him and sit next to Eddie.
His head shoots up, "Oh, hey Rich." Eddie smiles.
"Play me something Kaspbrak." I say with a grin.
"I can't really, uh, play the guitar very well." Eddie quietly says.
"I don't care. Just play something." I encourage the small boy.
Eddie wordlessly nods and start to play something I don't recognize. He isn't singing the words, but the way he's bobbing his head makes it obvious he's singing the words in his head.
That funny feeling creeps through my body. I can feel it in my hands, up my nose, in my stomach, in my feet, in my ears, in every strand of hair, everywhere.
I was so caught up in the way Eddie's fingers moved across the fretboard that I barely noticed when his fingers stopped.
"Was it okay?" Eddie nervously asks.
"It was perfect." I whisper.
You can never have him. He doesn't want you. He's too good for you.
AN
-GROOVYLADY
