I wish I was remotely musical. As it is, I can barely hold a tune! (that doesn't stop me from singing) (although it really should).
Anyway, this is just a little something that crept into my head :)
Midnight crept past, and the Brownstone was filled with tiny breaths: as if the building itself had lungs.
Theresa's fingers picked gently at the strings, her red hair hanging over her shoulder and green eyes caressing the lyre. The sweet, melodic tune seemed to soothe and massage the air around her: it consumed the room, including the brown haired boy sitting on her bed.
But within moments, the gentle, sweet notes of the lyre were joined by those of the guitar: Jay's own nimble fingers crept between the frets, and within the room a sort of harmony existed that Theresa wished she could bottle up and keep for eternity.
And soon, the acoustic notes were joined by voices.
There wasn't a song they hadn't attempted throughout their midnight escapades: the favourites included Riptide (Vance Joy), or We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (Taylor Swift), or Iris (the Goo Goo Dolls). Perhaps one day, they would choose to share their music with the rest of the Brownstone.
But for now, the door remained closed, and the music played only in snatched moments of midnight.