Ficly

The Sweet Symphony

“Am here for a shot.” – “Sure thing.” The bartender replied. – “Who’s on the stage tonight.” – “Some girl back east, they say she has the touch of an angel on the guitar.” – “Thanks”
I took my drink up as close as I could to the stage. The lights dimmed, the curtains rolled back. A woman in a red dress, with sparkles twinkling in the lights stood up on the stage. She raised her hands to block the light from furthering blinding her. A minute has passed no notes were played, the guests were left restless. I waited for her fright to pass, then out of no where she played a secret note, which made my heart beat an extra rhythm. There she was playing a note, only gods if there was one wanted to listen to. Her singing wasn’t much to desire of, but the note made you want to be locked away with her, as she played you to sleep each night. She stood there singing her restless heart out and played away the tears she held in for so long. She was an angel, an angel to pass on the sweet symphony.

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