Parker hardly watching his hands as Kevin showed her where to place her fingers. Her asking him to teach her to play these songs had nothing to do with any desire to become a guitarist. Instead, she paid close attention to how effortlessly he picked and strummed; never looking down to make sure his fingers where in the correct place - like it was something he had been born doing. Parker had picked up a few things but nothing had really been committed to her long term memory. She knew enough to be able to pick at the choruses of some of her favorite songs that he had taught her.

"Once you have that, I'll get mine and play the other part," he told her.

“Actually, Kev, can you show me that one more time?” Without hesitation, he started from the beginning and played it again; picking and strumming slower than he had before. This time, Parker’s eyes carefully followed his finger placement. He released the guitar to her as she placed her fingers on the frets where his had just been. As she strummed the sound came out much less melodically than it had for him. Just like he had told her hundreds of times, she pressed down harder on the strings. It helped a little, but as she moved her fingers to the next position something sounded a bit off. She glanced up at him quizzically; without having to say a word he moved her fingers to where they were supposed to be. She strummed again. Much better.

After a half dozen failed attempts, she finally got the general idea. Despite the choppiness, Kevin apparently thought she was ready to move on. He hopped up and disappeared into his room, presumably to retrieve another guitar for himself. Parker continued to play the same riffs over and over to herself while she waited for his return. She sank further into her seat and readjusted the guitar so that it was supported more by the arm of the couch than her hip. After such a stressful week, she couldn’t think of a better way to unwind. In the small two bedroom apartment, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. It was there that her nagging boss and her hopeful academic advisors ceased to exist. Even her boyfriend, Adam, knew that Sunday mornings were specifically reserved for unwinding. 

As Kevin was making his way back to the couch there was a faint knock on the door. She hadn’t been expecting company and she knew that most of his friends felt comfortable enough to let themselves in. After a second knock, she looked up at him and claimed “not it,” something they had done as children in order to be immune to the responsibilities of being “it” when playing games like tag or hide-n-seek. She continued to mindlessly strum Kevin’s guitar while he went to get the door. 

“Hey man, is Parker here?” It definitely wasn’t like Adam to show up unannounced.