It's Kinda Crazy Really [L.S.]

0.5

The 8th of August, 2020

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Emma's POV

I get a text from Mollie saying she's outside and to get my ass out there before she drags me out. I don't even question it at this point, I've learned not to question the things she does. I swear I'm going to have to bail her out of jail one day, or she's gonna drag me along with her. Anyways, I get dressed and head upstairs. I shout through the house that I'm going out with Mollie and make my way out the door to her car.

"Before we go anywhere, am I going to have to change my name again and move to Canada?" she laughs as if it's the funniest thing in the world and shakes her head. She pulls away from the curb and heads towards town.

"No silly, we're just going to get ice-cream and then walk around a bit," she states still laughing. She woke me up on a Saturday, before twelve, for ice-cream? Of course, she did, this is Mollie we're talking about. We blast our playlist, screaming out the lyrics until we lose our voices. These are my favorite car rides, the vibes are indescribable. Windows down, wind in your hair, scaring every passing car with your screams. It may sound crazy, but it's the best.

We pull into the parking lot and walk up to the window. It's one of those standing trailers that have one window. I order cookie dough ice-cream in a waffle cone and she orders coffee ice-cream the same way. We head to the car and make our way further into town, it's really just the most urban area around. The car ride was the same as before but this time we had ice-cream.

Mollie parallel parks the car, horribly might I add, and then we start our walk in the humid August air. We finish our melting ice-cream before entering any shops. Most shops are antique shops. Each shop holds its own collection of beautiful collectibles that have their own stories.

In one particular shop they had an instrument section. Each instrument was played by different artists. Each instrument just as important and loved as much as the next. They each had their own stories, one cello was played by a veteran of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and yet no one took it. There was one guitar in particular with designs littering the body. The last owner made it theirs, it was personal, they made a connection with it. The birds flying around the tulips made it virtuous. I was drawn to it, I wanted nothing more at that moment than to have that guitar. The past artist was unnamed, leaving the masterpiece without a history but the body said it all.

The person was artistic and free-spirited. They felt free when playing their music, the music helped them grow like the tulips engraved into the fine, polished wood. I ran my finger along the neck tracing each individual string. The strings were well worn and you could see the history without needing a name. It was beautiful in so many ways. A voice knocks me out of my trance.

"You want it?" I jump and turn towards an elder who looked around sixty. I nodded and looked back longingly at the delicate instrument. They reached for the guitar and passed it to my dainty hands. "Then it's yours. I've never seen someone look that longingly at one of these instruments. You see the beauty behind it when no one else will," I was in shock. I couldn't just take it without paying.

"I'm sorry, but I can't just take this it's too valuable," they shook their head and picked up the equally beautiful stand. It wasn't any normal metal stand, no it was a vine. The stand was shaped to look like a vine steadying the fragile instrument. It was all so beautiful.

"Then pay for the stand. Pay for the stand and take the guitar, or leave with both without paying. It's your call," I immediately ask how much as Mollie finds me in the maze of trinkets and treasures. I leave with fifty fewer dollars in my bank account. I carried the guitar as if it were my child, tenderly with nothing but care. We make our way to the closest instrument shop and I mindfully choose a case and picks. I choose a case I could make my own and a few marbled grey, medium picks.