9 hours. That’s how long she’s been perfecting this. Not too long ago you claimed that your favourite song was ‘birds of a feather’. You said that you’d love to hear it in real life and she wanted your wish to come true, after all, she loved you with all she had.

She was silently tendering to the cuts that ran along her fingers from her guitar with the occasional sharp exhale to fill the silence. Dressed in her casual pyjamas that never really got much rest with her, she rarely slept anymore and you knew that. She was about to set up again however a knock on the large oak door brought her back to reality.

“Hey, are you in there, Kyoka?” It was you, and it was four in the morning. Why were you at the music house at a time like this?