Sequel: La Fin Des Bohèmes

Les Bohèmes

The Songwriter

ROGERDAVISROGERDAVIS"One last refrain, glory,
from the pretty boy front man who wasted oppourtunity."

The songwriter’s hands pick their way around the obstacle course of guitar strings. Combinations of chords; a D major, an A minor falling onto a F-sharp major.

He whispers curses to a wrong note under his breath then claps his hands together, feeling the dull sting of unnaturally cold flesh that he is all too used to.

His breath forms a delicate haze that hangs, crystalline, in the air. Every time he opens his mouth to release a word, the note appears to shiver.

He knows he should wrap up more, but won’t.

You can’t play the guitar wearing gloves.