out of curiosity, a few friends and i walked into local, small thift shop. at least, that's what we thought - the building was mammoth in retrospect to how it looked from the outside. the hallway that we walked into stretched for miles, with millions of rooms scattered off of it. we immediately began to search them, and we quickly learned two things:
a) we had the place to ourselves and
b) it was nostalgia heaven.
we were partially correct.
to cover more ground in the time we had, we split up. no big deal. this was no nightmare. i searched a room for items. there were old toys - beyblades, bakugon, and stuffed animals - and it seemed that the room was dedicated just for them. old items, forgotten with time. until i saw something standing against the wall. a guitar, calling me toward it. i obeyed. i picked it up, and examined it carefully. it was a gorgeous white, except for all the signatures across its surfaces. signatures from people i'd once known, people whom i was once close to.
"pretty cool, isn't it?" someone called out, breaking me from my trance. i turned around and saw a man, dressed in all white. he was holding a remote controller and using it to fly a small helicopter around the room. "it's beautiful. a work of art. a perfect fit for you."
i start to walk over to him, with the guitar in my hands. ready to play. "it is," i said in response. it was all i could say. i was speechless.
"it's part of you, i'd say. like it is your life itself. kinda poetic," he said with a laugh. "us nerds aren't meant to be poets." the helicopter continued to fly around the room, and he focused on it, as if he was ignoring my presence. and i did, too. it was kind of mesmerizing.
"do you want it?" he finally asks, pulling me back to reality once again, and i stumbled to answer him.
he stared me down, despite my clear height advantage. "are you sure?"
"then cherish it. i'll give it to you for free, as a gift. you were a favorite of mine," he said with a smile. it quickly faded though, replaced with one of absolute seriousness. he dropped the controller. "because if you don't-" the helicopter crashed to the tiles, bounced once, and rested finally, unmoving. "-you'll regret it."
i swallowed. "i will, promise."
"good. now go." he pointed behind me. "your friends are waiting."
i did as instructed, wandering back into the hallway. sure enough, they were waiting for me, calling out for me to hurry up. we had to go. i started to follow, studying the guitar in my arms as i went. it captivated me. i learned a few things about it as i walked to the door:
a) some names were repeated, each time as a new signature. one was truly done over and over, on all sides but the top, in big, bold ink. a curly, feminine kind of text.
b) his name was on it, too, but it was within the hole, inside the guitar. gordon.
my friends left first the building first, and i followed, hesitantly. i knew i could never come back if i left. but i did it anyway. as i also knew i will try to anyway.
i woke up, pulled off my blanket, and looked at the wall on the other side of my room. the wall with a guitar resting silently against it.
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