The Sound of Music

A D chord.

Twanged from the battered, beat-up old telecaster in the roadie’s hands. It’s his brief moment of fame in front of thousands.

They are a crowd consisting of craning necks, crowning t-shirt and jeans combinations.

Just waiting. And waiting.

Because it would be more than worth it. The ticket cost more than an arm and a leg. But it would be worth it.

And for his last trick, the roadie disappears.

Gone. Forgotten.

His moment will come again tomorrow.

Another venue, another crowd, another D chord.

Not the music that they came to see, but a vital part of the musical beast.