Travis closed the door and locked it. He set the case on top of the piano and removed the guitar, along with the sheet music. He picked out a chord, adding it to the papers spread out in front of him. He tried forming a picture in his mind of a young man with brown hair and the warmest smile he had ever seen. He let the music flow out of him while he played for the man in his imagination. Travis imagined him sitting in the only other chair in his music room, listening to him play and maybe even singing along. He felt inspired to write, and even Keith hadn’t been able to inspire that.
Travis had filled three pages with music when the buzzer signaling someone at the front gate shattered the illusion.
“Damn, why did I bring this in here with me?” Travis said out loud before he answered. Don
