strummed down

“Whatcha got?” The young woman stepped inside the dingy apartment. Brian picked up his battered telecaster, wrapped the strap around his neck, and fumbled at the neck to get hold of a white bit of plastic wedged between the strings. The pick strummed down slowly as Brian leaned over to flick a small black amp on.

Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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