ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

That night on the bus back to Flushing, I asked Remo about stopping by Artie’s office. “I have the day off tomorrow, right?”

We were sitting in the far back of the bus. I was in the very corner banquette, with the Ovation, making pleasant sounds with it but not really playing in any focused way. Remo was at the little table a few feet over. Between us we’d finished the dregs of a bottle of Knob Creek that had been lying around and I was feeling mellow.

“You sure about that?” he asked me.