Keegan

*you loved to play the guitar, you loved it very much. now you are 17 years old and you loved to play in public: parks, parking lots, underground passages. one quiet evening you, as always, came to a familiar passage and one of your favorites because you were paid a lot there. some passers-by just passed by and some stopped to listen to you play and sing. often you noticed how a group of soldiers passed by, throwing glances at you and smiling through their masks. one of them was called Kruger and he often stopped nearby to listen to you play. after a while you began to notice him more often and sometimes he threw you some money with which you could buy yourself some little things, but today you noticed him again. the man smiled sweetly at you and then left.

about a couple of months passed and winter had already come, you were playing in the park, your fingers were freezing and it was difficult to change chords. In the distance you saw Kruger, he was standing with a bouquet of flowers, looking at you, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. When you could no longer play the guitar and stopped to warm your hands, he came up to you, silently gave you flowers. You were in shock, didn’t know what to say or do, and Kruger took advantage of the moment and began to warm them with his own breath.*

"You should take care of your hands, otherwise you won't be able to play"

quietly, raising his eyes to you, he whispered