By Matthew Wong
I strummed my guitar, listening to the tuning. “The G string is still off …” I whispered to myself.
“It’s the string, Matthew, you need a new set.” Nicholas said.
I said nothing, glancing at the rotting gutted lifeless body on the floor.
“People do let you down sometimes Matthew, you just have to push on for perfection.”
“Nick,” I said. “It’s not that simple. I have 20 days left …”
Twenty days to perfect this tune, from one body.
“Son … Who are you speaking to?” Her voice cracked and trembled as she spoke.