Chapter 52: Birthday

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        "Thanks dad," I gave him a small hug from my seat in the kitchen.

        It was just us, with a small cake in front of us with the cursive scribble of "Happy Birthday, Stella" across the center in bright blue gel. The frosting was white, and the cake was chocolate. The only thing my dad ever made was my birthday cake every single year, and he decorated them. This year he put a large stick figure on the side with a large grin, and the message in the middle was supposed to be his word bubble. Even if it seemed stupid, I loved evey year just a little bit more.

        I spent my day out with him picking me out things I wouldn't want to return for my birthday. It was mostly things for college and my dorm. This was mostly my birthday present, which I didn't mind. I needed to buy the stuff anyway, and I was going to use it, so it didn't really bother me. He bought my new sheets, a mini fridge, rugs, picture frames for pictures and posters. The other supplies would be bought later, but I was happy with my new items for school.

        "I'm not done yet," he seemed excited about whatever he was talking about. He stood, walking into the living room and moving stuff around. I stared at the empty doorway, unsure if I should offer my help. He was back within a minute, a poorly wrappe item in his hands. The paper was covered in butterflies. Obviously, my dad hadn't gotten wrapping paper in a long time.

        By the shape of the contraption, I knew what it was. My heart raced slightly, and I felt a smile grow on my lips. I pushed the cake to the side, allowing my dad to place the large case in front of me on the table. He rubbed the back of his neck awkardly.

        "I probably should have wrapped it better," He smiled feebly.

        I chuckled, my fingers running over the wrapping paper. The case shaped to the object, body of the object much wider than the neck and head. I peeled back the paper, finding a leather case underneath. I crumpled the wrapping int o a ball and let it fall to the table next to me. My eyes didn't leave the case as I unbuckled it, opening it slowly.

        My fingers moved to the tuning keys, moving them slightly. I touched the finger board, strumming the strings lightly. It played a quiet melody with the pressure and faded into the air around us. I tugged it from the case, setting it on my lap in front of me. The Seagull s6, my own acoustic guitar.

        "Dad, this is awesome. But -- why?" I glanced up at him a I placed my fingers on the frets, and storked the lightly stained body. The bridge was shining in the light of the ktichen, creating a reflection from the sun shining through the windows.

        "Your windows were open those nights you were practicing for your music class," he chuckled at me, and I instantly felt bad. I had kept him up with my terrible playing. "You have almost as much fun with the guitar as you did with the piano as you got the hang of it."

        "Seagulls are so expensive, Alex has one," I held my neck tightly, feeling as if it might fall off my lap. He shrugged, indifferent about the money.

        "You're my only kid. I get to spoil you while I can," he kissed the top of my head.

        I smiled at him as he reached into the case, pulling out a guitar strap. I grinned at him as he handed it to me. It was off-white and black, and I examined it carefully, flipping it over and noticing gold stitching on the fabric. I looked closely, seeing that there was a sentance that flowed along the bottom of the strap. "Music is love in search of a word."

        "Thank you," I stood while placing the guitar in its case carefully. I wrapped my arms around my dad's torso and he laughed while kissing my hair again.

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