Austin stood in the middle of the room, a black Ibanez on a strap around his neck. His fingers flew over the strings. He wore a pair of headphones and had his back to her. She didn’t want to sneak up on him, but he had his eyes closed. Something alerted him, perhaps the scent of her perfume, or an awareness that he was being watched. He turned, surprised. He took off the headphones and she heard other instruments playing. He turned off the music and set the guitar on a stand.
“I’m a freak,” he said, holding his arms wide. “Forgive me?”
“Of course,” she replied, stepping into the circle of his arms.
“Do they need me?”
“Not at the moment. I came to talk to you for a minute. Can we chat?”
“Sure. Sounds ominous.”
“Depends on your perspective.” She took him by the hand, leading him to…
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