With my guitar, I could write my own stories, my own poems, and my own destiny. No one could take away the feelings, the emotions or the truth of my notes. They could hide secrets and provoke images of words that never should be whispered. I could compose the melody of my aching heart and write into it my own happily ever after since no one seemed to think after all my suffering I deserved one. That's okay, I would make my own.
I'm a librarian in town,' she began. 'You sure about that?'The words popped out before he could stop them. Annabelle raised her eyebrows. 'Fairly. It's my job and so far no one has told me to go away when I show up for work.' he thought, 'I was expecting someone wearing glasses. You know. Because librarians read a lot.' The raised eyebrows turned into a frown. 'You need to get out of the barn more.