T H R E E

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by P3trich0r

by P3trich0r

BRAEDEN

With the red apple guitar between his hands and the white pick between his lips Braeden was spinning on his chair, but it stopped the moment someone was peeking through the window, not anyone, a really cute girl.

His heart made a spin and the pick fell down because of his surprise expression on his lips. In that moment he thought that if he was lucky enough, she would come in and maybe they could talk about their musical tastes, a common fantasy that never made true. For disgrace, that wasn't the day either, because the girl turned around and crossed the street to get inside the thrift shop.