A Sense of Peace

POV #1: 

It was a slow day at the shop today. Usually, there was the familiar buzz of voices and instruments slung together, as people wandered around the big music shop. Today there must've been only three or so people here, and the only noise came from somebody in the back playing bass guitar softly,

I was busy filing sheet music in the back warehouse, my least favorite job. It was tedious work, going through hundreds of sheets and walking around filing them in lettered boxes. I grabbed the last box labeled "Classical Nursery Rhymes" and headed back onto the main floor. It was 4 o'clock, meaning my warehouse shift was over, and it was time to work the floor. I heaved the box up on the shelf with the other sheet music and headed over to the guitars to start my job tuning them.

The shop has a small room just for acoustic guitars in the back. It's made of tan-colored wood, and houses about 30 gorgeous guitars. In the middle of the room, there are two plush green couches and a few stools on the side. I grab the first guitar and sit on the stool closest to the back wall so I have a view of the room.

About 3 guitars in I hear the shop bell ring for the first time in an hour. The door to the guitar room is closed so the sound of strumming doesn't disturb anyone, so I can't see who it is. I do hear a soft melody coming from outside though, the sound of our grand piano. I stop tuning the guitar to listen and recognize the song as Clair De Lune. This was the beauty of working at a music store, having the privilege of live music every day. The sweet melody continued on for another minute and then stopped. I went back to tuning the guitars until I heard the door click and swing open.

A girl with black hair and blue jeans entered carrying a pack of guitar picks. She had on a green and black button-down sweater and white converse with dirt stains. She looked like something out of a 90s grunge magazine.

"Should I leave the door shut?" She asks.

"Yeah, just so I don't bother anyone else with my lousy guitar skills," I say, immediately regretting it when she doesn't laugh at my joke. Instead, she walks over to the side where we keep the metal string guitars, her grey backpack swinging behind her. 

“Let me hear them,” She says, plucking a string with her painted finger. 

“Hear...what?” I ask.

“Your crummy guitar skills,” She replies, walking down the wall and scanning the guitars. 

“Hey, when’d I say crummy,” I laugh. “Not crummy, just lousy.”

She smiles while I choose my guitar, a chestnut-colored parlor, and sit back on the stool. I can see her watching me with her piercing green eyes. I position the guitar on my lap and strum an A. The most awful sound I have ever heard comes out of the guitar and the girl starts laughing. 

“Hey! It’s not tuned,” I complain, chuckling. 

“Keep telling yourself that,” She says smirking.

“Woah there, I’m going to have to show you my real guitar skills sometime if you don’t believe me,” I say.

She laughs and turns back at the guitars, running her fingers along them until she chooses one she likes. I look back down at the untuned guitar in my hands and get back to work, smiling. Maybe it was a good thing that the store wasn’t bustling with people, the peacefully quiet guitar room was finally a place I wanted to be. 

POV #2: 

The school year was finally over and I had given myself the day off to relax as a graduation gift to myself. The whole year had felt like it had taken an eternity to finish. Each month had passed slower than the last 17 years of my life. After 8 months of that torment, I felt I deserved some peace, so off to the music store I went. 

As I walked in, the familiar sound of the doorbell gave me a sense of warmth. I used to come here when I felt like I was going off the edge and the cozy environment always helped me climb back up. The store was packed with every instrument you could imagine scattered everywhere around the store. Little plush chairs were placed in each corner of the shop with amps set beside them. Back when the place wasn’t as popular I used to curl up in the guitar room and strum out a few Tragically Hip songs. I came back on a Tuesday afternoon purposefully, knowing nobody would be in the store to bother me and my guitar. 

I walked through the familiar maze of keyboard stands, sheet music, and violins until I reached the back of the store. It was exceptionally quiet here, you couldn’t even hear the low chatter of the couple near the bass guitars. Just how I liked it.

I walk over to the door on the back wall and open it, expecting to be alone. Instead, I see a tall chestnut-haired boy with a guitar in his lap. He’s sitting on the stool in the back corner, and a girl with black hair was walking over to the green couches near him with a guitar in her hands.

I contemplate leaving but choose to stay as I notice them both turn around and look at me.

I decide to walk to the wall farthest away from them and look at the guitars there. I used to sit on the green couch facing the door, where the black-haired girl is sitting. I would sink down into the plush material and let the world float away. The life I wished would leave sunk into the couch cushions along with me. Now there was a girl on my couch, strumming her own guitar. 

I sighed, watching the two. The boy was turning a red guitar but kept looking up at the girl on the couch. He obviously had a massive crush on her, not that I would blame him. When you look like that the whole world would probably fall for you. I wish I had that struggle. 

She looks up, her green eyes locking into mine. I quickly turn away and pretend to look back at the amber guitar in front of me. A few seconds later I peek back and see that she was once again focused on her guitar. A small grey backpack sits beside her converse, laying on the red carpet underneath the couch. 

I grab the amber guitar and walk over to the corner beside the door. I sit on the stool there, seated away from the two toward the side wall. I strum a few chords to Wheat Kings and hum the words very quietly. This will have to do.

A few chords later I see the girl get up with her guitar and walk over to the boy with chestnut hair. He says something to her but I can’t hear because I’m still strumming my guitar. I don’t want to stop or it’ll seem like I’m eavesdropping, so I continue on and strain my ears to hear. I can’t pick anything up but the black-haired girl laughs quietly and goes to put her guitar back. They’re laughing at me. Probably my awful humming. I should've stayed quiet.

This is exactly what I come here to escape from. I got bullied constantly. High School was four years of awful taunting, no friends, and no life. I hated myself and how I looked.  The music store was supposed to help me escape that. I pull the hood farther over my hideous hair and get off the stool. I notice the girl watching me with a weird expression on her face. The boy was still watching her. 

I hang the guitar up on the wooden shelf, and without looking back, I head out the door, hair flying, leaving the only place of peace I had. 

POV #3:

The boy with the chestnut hair will not stop looking at me. Every so often I’ll catch him smiling at me through the corner of my eye. I came here to pretend to buy guitar picks so I can jam out, not to make friends. I suppose this isn’t so bad though. 

I grab a guitar from behind the boy and walk over to the comfortable couches in the middle of the room. I hear him start to speak up but the door jangles and a girl with a blue sweater walk in. Thank you girl in the blue sweater, thank you for letting me play guitar in peace. 

I strum a few random chords and watch the girl retreat to the corner of the room and browse guitars. She has her hood on, covering most of her face. All I can see are her glasses and a few tendrils of hair falling down her jaw. The rest of her is hidden in baggy jeans and black vans. She browses for a while and I go back to playing my guitar until I can feel her looking at me. I look up and catch her eyes. She turns away quickly, probably embarrassed that she got caught staring. She seems very observant. Since she’s gotten here she’s watched both me and the other guy pretty closely, probably trying to figure us out. Well surprise girl in the blue hoodie, I’m trying to do the same thing.

I watch her pick a guitar and walk to the stool opposite of us. 

For a little while, she strums some soft chords and I pretend to fix my guitar so I can listen, while the boy with chestnut hair continues his work. 

I realize I’d been fiddling with this guitar far too long so I get up to switch it for another. I can hear her soft humming as I get up and walk towards the boy. I smile. Her playing is making me feel cozy and warm. I needed to know the name of whatever song this was. 

“Guitar expert can’t pick a guitar hmm?” The boy suddenly says. I look at him and laugh quietly. He smiles at me as I put my guitar back on the wall. 

I turn back around to go find a new guitar on the side wall, an excuse to talk to the pretty girl in the blue hood, but she has already gotten off her stool. She walks over to the wall and hangs her guitar up hastily. As suddenly as she arrived, she walks over to the door and almost runs out, her hood falling off. The last thing I see is her shiny brown hair before the door shuts. 

I slouch my shoulders and walk back towards the couch, grabbing a random guitar off the wall. The boy is staring at me again, smiling. I ignore him and sit on the couch. I wish the girl would come back, with her sweet voice and beautiful chestnut hair.

The room somehow feels less peaceful now.