The other side of the bed was empty when he woke up one morning. His eyes opened and adjusted to the darkness of the room. The clock on the nightstand burned the time into his mind; five thirty in the morning. Doug groaned, irritated that he'd woken up before the alarm. He sat up, leaned his back against the headboard, and dragged his hands over his eyes. Tom was obviously already awake, but he didn't hear the sound of the shower running or smell the usual pot of coffee that would linger through the apartment. The more awake Doug became, he realized that he could hear…music?
He slowly eased out of bed, clenching his teeth at the cold air that hit his bare legs. Making his way to the living room, he found Tom sitting on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table, plucking at an old-looking six string guitar.
"Where'd you find that thing?"
Tom looked slightly startled, turning his head to see Doug behind him as he stopped playing the instrument. "I've had it for awhile." Doug didn't say anything as he walked around to plop down on the couch next to him. He pulled his hands across his face again and hunched over so that his elbows were propped on his knees and his face was buried in his hands. "I'm sorry; I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Don't worry about it." Doug continued to stare at the floor and watched as Tom's foot began to tap out a beat when he started playing the guitar again. The music was slow and steady and he looked up to see Tom's brow furrowed in concentration, as if to make each note sound purposeful to whatever tune he was creating. "What are you doing man?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's five thirty in the morning. You usually don't wake up for another hour," Doug pointed out.
"Couldn't sleep," Tom answered, letting his leg slip from the coffee table and he rested his guitar against his belly. "This case that we're on, I'm in this music class that's pretty rad. The teacher's kind of a nut job, but there's this kid in the class that plays guitar like no one I've ever seen."
"Yeah?" Doug asked. Tom nodded in agreement. "Where'd you learn to play?"
"My dad used to play a lot when I was younger. Sometimes I'd play with him, but I was never any good," Tom replied and Doug noted at the hint of sadness in his voice. "Then Jenko was teaching me for a little while but then…well, you know." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and stared down at the floor. "You can take the first shower, if you want."
"Yeah, thanks." Doug reached out and squeezed his forearm before getting up and making his way toward the bathroom. Before he closed the door, he heard Tom begin to play a simple scale.
