The Lonely Guitar Finds a Home

The guitar sat quietly by the window, dusty and old, the strings slightly bent; it had been in the pawnshop for years. No one wanted a guitar that was battered and abused, which had not been played in decades and needed new tuning strings.

The guitar despaired of ever finding someone to play it, once it had been well loved and cared for, but that had been long ago, so long that it could barely remember the small fingers trying to find the cords, stumbling, hitting wrong notes before trying again to get it right.

However the little boy that the guitar had served so loyally grew into a man, a man that had no desire to play it and had instead given it to a pawn shop. So there it sat unused for all those years.

It had seen many people pass by the pawnshop, as they went about their business, trying to find this or that item that they could not do without. Meanwhile the guitar sat abandoned, the saddest specimen of its kind.

Until one day a boy walked into the guitar shop and saw the guitar lying abandoned upon the shelf. The boy smiled, taking up the old instrument and looking at it closely, before casually walking away.

"You want that guitar, son?" The store clerk asked and the boy heard the note of desperation in his voice. It was clear that the guitar needed to be sold.

"Depends how much you want for it, pops." He replied and the old man bristled. "Hey chill dude, if you can call me son, I can call you pops." He grinned mischievously. "Would say ten bucks buy it?"

"You have yourself a deal." The store clerk said relieved and the guitar would it have been able to, would have been smiling. The boy took it in his hands and played the store clerk for it, before walking down the street guitar in hand and back to his house.

The guitar that had been alone for years now had a home and a boy that loved him.