He picked every string with such care, hand sliding effortlessly to each chord on the tiny guitar's neck. He picked, he strummed, he hummed an effervescent tune. Each note and melody drifted through the air. The tune soaked into our skin. It crept surreptitiously into our ears, as if it had been there all along. As the bus rolled over each hill, he continued his tune. It felt like being in a miniature ship in a bottle half filled with water. Gently the ship would sway to the sea shanty. It felt like a dream in the best way.
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