She had a weakness for writers, and I was never that good with the words anyway.

I walked into the bar completely unsure of what to expect. I grabbed a drink. I felt out of place. I don’t have tattoos.

I asked for a song.

“Okay, but it’s going to sound different on the acoustic.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He played. The songs were good, but none of them were mine.

It was time for the last song.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget.”

He played my song.

The show ended up. I walked over while he was kissing his girlfriend.

“So, the backstory is I got dumped on Friday. I really needed to hear that song. Thank you.”

“He wasn’t worth it anyway.”

Truer words have never been spoken.


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