Chapter 22


“We played a lot of parties then ended up breaking up because I only wanted to write ballads.”

“I so want to hear a sample.  Lyrics please,” said Abby.

“I assure you that they are all long forgotten and that if I did remember any I am pretty sure they all sounded the same, some corny rhyme scheme pertaining to topics of the teenage mind.”

“That sounds appropriate for high school.  Not good at all?”

“Well mostly they were rip-offs of other ballads I had heard.”

“My troubadour,” said Abby, genuinely impressed, “how are your rhyme schemes now?”

Mitch leaned back in his side of the booth, straightening his torso, “I am proud to say that after high school I moved away from the ballads to political songs in college.  Then on to poetry for a while, the kind that you needed a decoder ring for.  That all gave way to the study of English and Philosophy, which involved so much of my time that everything else just got pushed to the back.”  This was not the truth exactly.  Mitch always played his guitar and sang what was on his mind however at risk of being exposed, he stuck to his story.

“You have to share some of those old poems with me some time,” said Abby.

“I would like that,” said Mitch, and he was sincere.  The idea of sharing with Abby anything from his heart made the very moment more intimate, “and one day I will.”

“Promise me troubadour,” said Abby.

“That’s a promise,” said Mitch.

Some time had passed since they had left Brian and Caroline so they decided to head back.  As they walked to the fairgrounds Abby took Mitch’s hand.

“Will you be attending the Winter Slush Fest this year,” asked Abby.

Mitch squeezed Abby’s hand, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

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