Chapter Eleven
He tucked his pen into the bun and strummed his long, thin fingers over the strings. Nodding to himself before he picked up the pen to make notes.
I moved closer to him, walking around him in a slow circle. He was lost in what he was doing. Pouring himself into getting it perfect, he had a knack for getting lost in the creative process. Then again, I couldn’t blame him. Sandra was worthy of every word we had written about her.
He hummed a melody as he wrote before leaning back to play it. “Don’t interrupt me, King.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I chuckled, moving closer to him.
“I’m almost done.”
I nodded, stopping behind him and looking over his shoulder at his open notebook. His pen danced across the page, leaving trails of blue ink in its wake. The words were spread ou
