It’s freezing, the air crisp. The moon… she rises slowly, her blue light washing over me, calling me.

I take out my guitar. I begin with arpeggios. Simple, I know… but soon, faint waves of violet, then teal, then orange dance in the sky.

Her hue warms, as does mine.

Joey realizes that the violin or piano may be the traditional choice of instruments in these circumstances but he can’t play those. If he tried, her ears would bleed and she would run away. Of course, she might do that anyway. Either way, you can visit him at joeytoey.com.