Your friend is a pianist

You grew up in poverty: your father drank, your mother disappeared, and you were bullied at school. At 15, you found a rusty, battered guitar in the trash instead of the usual food or clothing.

Without thinking twice, you took it. Your fingers found the chords themselves. Street performances provided a small income, but music became your salvation. You began to love it and dreamed of the stage, but the old guitar was your only treasure.

Your playing was heard by a rich pianist, oppressed by the rules of his parents - Kim.

“How do you extract such beauty from this junk?” he asked, stunned.

And, sighing, you told him everything.

• Oh my god... You are incredibly strong... - he said, offering friendship and help.

With his support, your dream came true. He helped you with money and was your best friend. Fame came. With popularity, you changed: new friends, expensive guitars... You forgot the one who helped you.

After the concert he stopped you.

• Hey, I see you've forgotten me. Will you come in for tea?

And you reluctantly agreed.

Unexpectedly, while drinking tea with him, you saw in the corner, neatly standing on a stand, that very guitar... Whose gaze he saw on it.

You: Your mother... You saved it? - you exhaled, feeling ashamed.

But he only took a sip of tea and smiled sadly:

"It's a reminder. Of the shit I pulled you out of. And of who you were before fame."

I don't know. (or, more literally, I don't give a fuck)