ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

We walked down Boylston Street. The night air was breezy, humid in that end-of-summer way.

“I can tell you’re upset,” Ziggy said.

“In the sense of, like, the apple cart in my mind flipped over, yeah.” I took a deep breath of the night air. We were passing the hotel where Jonathan and I had spent a weekend, but that thought barely made it to the surface. “I’m not angry. I’m not freaked.”

“It’s okay to be upset, Daron. This is something that’s going to change everything. Whatever we decide. All the apple carts are going to flip.”