Moments of Love

song for you.

I've been playing guitar since I was crawling. Not literally, the mechanics of that would be quite difficult. However, I have been playing for quite a while.

I played in a band at school for a couple years, we weren't terrible. I made friends for life in that band.

Then I went on to write some songs of my own...and sold them all. Not that I regret it, since now they'll actually be listened to. But, I've always wanted to create a name for myself. Be someone that when someone hears their name they go 'oh I know that person'.

For now, though, I'll have to stick to teaching basic guitar lessons.

My name is Winter Hughes and I work at GuitarLand.

"Okay, Dev, just practice those chords over the weekend and I'll see you back here Monday." I dismissed the young girl out after her particularly long session. She had a lot of questions. Lucky me, those questions got me working overtime. Yay!

My phone rings and reminds me to turn off my ringer as some customers look at me funny. Have they never heard a cell phone before? Judgy.

"Thanks for almost ignoring my call, love you." Nice introduction.

"Thanks Quentin, now my customers are looking at me like I'm crazy."

"Not my fault you have my ringtone as the HamsterDance song."

"You set it as that."

"Oh. Right. Well, I did call for a reason."

"And...?"

"You have to play at my cousins bar mitzvah."

"....Is that a question?"

"No, I told them you would do it already."

"Cool. Why exactly in hell did you do that?"

"Because! They wanted you! They were like 'oh please ask your friend Winter to do it, they're so nice'. You have to do it, Snowflake."

"That's become a dig since we were children, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do. Will you do it?"

"Well, it's not like I have a choice! You said I would!"

"Exactly. It's tomorrow. I'll send you your set list. Love you! Bye."

"...."

"You dick."

______________

Quentin and I walked into the banquet hall, him giving me the run down of my duties.

To say I was stressed would be an understatement. Mostly because this set list is horrendous, but who am I to talk. I just hope I'm allowed some of the catering.

When we walk in we are greeted by a seemingly middle aged woman.

"Hello! You must be Winter! Quentin has told me much about you. I'm Harriet, Mark's mom!"

I'm guessing Mark is the birthday boy. Is this a birthday? I know nothing about bar mitzvahs. Wow.

"Awesome! Where should I set up?" I asked, politely.