The Strings are too cold to touch, her hands shake each time digits rest carefully against the guitar’s neck. and yet.. she can’t press down on a single fret.
she realised that each string plucked is a hum and joel speaks to her with the wind.
each melody played is him, each
hymn. it’s him. it’s joel.
she looks down to her hands, her weapons. to play such a beautiful guitar gifted to her by the same man who taught her how to use her weapons perfectly.
she doesn’t deserve this.
she doesn’t deserve his honour.
after what he did.. he left her with so little of a purpose that now all she has is growing up immune, waiting for everyone to die around her.. and his stupid fucking guitar.
she strums a C Chord, and plucks the high E.
he was right..
( and the B, a slick pull off. )
she was sure, if joel ever lost her, he would lose all of himself. their memories.
( a strum, hammer down onto the G.
you’ve got it in you yet, ellie. )
because that’s what she lost.
she lost everything.
she found everything with him.
and lost it in an instant.
and at first, she paid no mind to the lyrics.
( to make this man of me.. )
but she can hear his voice.
singing, during lights out. strumming the guitar as he teachers her chord progressions and techniques.
she didn’t think of it then.
( our future days. )
“the days of you and me, joel.”
they all leave her.
but they’ve always had each other..
even when he’s gone, he’s here.
speaking through notes in the wind.
through humming in the strings.