The TV was on, but neither of us was listening to it. I was too busy watching Rilian fiddle with his guitar that I had nearly sent to its demise. He had me in his arms, with the guitar in my lap, showing me different chord patterns he liked.

He had a wall of different signed guitars, though this was the only one he pulled from the wall to use regularly. It was an old acoustic with everything from old stickers to knife holes where he stored his spare picks.

I ...