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STARTLING STORIES
I had of course gotten my guitar out of hock. I snuck it in the house and for three days tried to hide what I was up to from Algie. He didn’t say anything, but there’s something warmer in his smile when I’m working on a song. He was smiling at me that way now.
Finally I went into the little home studio out back. It’s not much. Daddy left behind a handsome estate, naturally, but I’ve got a passel of siblings and it got divvied down pretty good. I was the only child of Boone’s who’d tried a hand at music. Once, I thought that made me special.
I conjured a backing band out of sound programs and instrument files. I put in, then took out some harmonica licks. Then I re-corded them myself with a mouth organ. Took them out again. Put them back, liking how they added to
