Memory of a memory

"Oh, I make music. Music teacher's nice enough to let me record here after school so I'm not doing it in the dorms, and can't exactly use my home studio when I am at school." he said. "Not done yet though. Have to record all the tracks, and make sure they line up, see if I am feeling it, re-record if I don't. It's a pain, but everything worth doing is hard." he added. "Not even close to finished yet." he looked back at the practice room. "Won't be for a few days at least, with the rough draft I mean. Not for a school project for my own thing. I've always been pretty into music. My aunt gave me my uncles guitar when he passed, been using it ever sense. And if I remember right my grandpa gave it to him. So its old. Real old."

Dante popped up from his seat and into the room to get it to show her. It was covered in stickers and scratches. Some stickers looked older then both of them combined. With the white parts faded to a yellowish cream, and gouged across them from the picks of yesteryear. With a handful of newer ones. From concerts or the odd ironic sticker here and there of local businesses. Mostly looked like they were there to cover damage.