‘Why are you still moving?’ I ask. ‘Cause I don’t think you have it in you.’ ‘Try me.’ He pauses for a moment. ‘I don’t really wanna...play games with you all day, Ella.’ ‘Then what do you want?’ He walks towards me again. This time, a smirk forms on his face. Damn, he’s cute! Why are the cute ones always assholes? I squeeze the trigger. *click* What? *click click click* He pretends to look shocked, and places his hand on his heart before chuckling. *click* ‘Looking for this?’ He says, pulling. It feels like magic in my hands.”“It sounds like magic as well. You really like this? You don’t want me to keep looking?”“Not if I can afford this. Is it comparable in price to what my other guitar was so the insurance will cover it?”“No. It’s easily half again what that guitar cost. This is truly a concert instrument. Segovia, Bream, Williams ... They’ve all played Velazquez guitars.”“Why show it to me and get my hopes up when you know I can’t afford it?” I said, a little put out. Half again. More

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