Loss: Noun, failure to make good use of something.
I looked at my guitar today. The top string was broken, I'll have to fix that when I get some money. Mark is gone out today filming his documentary. I don't have the heart to tell him he'll find nothing of interest in our poor neighborhood of homeless and starving artists. Tomorrow's Christmas, I see Mark's mother send him a present of a hotplate. At least we can have coffee again. I also see that my own mother chose to forget I exist and concentrate on her son that didn't run off to New York to be in a rock band. Ha, Eddy, wonder how the little runt is doing, I think he is in ninth grade now, maybe tenth. I sent him a post card a few months ago but he never wrote back. Mom must be making sure that I have no contact with him so I can't recruit him into doing the same thing I did.
It wouldn't hurt to play the guitar would it? I strum the strings lightly testing it. It's out of tune, probably from sitting there for a year. I look at the back, carved into it is RD 3 AE. Long time ago that was. It's been a year since she slit her wrists in the bathroom. Leaving lots of blood and my death note. That's how Collins got infected, cleaning up the mess.
I played the tune of musetta's waltz as Mark busts in showing me the Rent notice.