The guitar sat in the corner, gathering dust. Jake hadn’t touched it since Sarah left six months ago. These days, he spent his time in front of screens, losing himself in virtual worlds where consequences could be undone with a reload.

“You still haven’t played?” Tom asked, dropping onto Jake’s worn couch. The afternoon light caught the dust motes dancing around the abandoned instrument.

“What’s the point?” Jake didn’t look up from his game controller.

“The point is you’re damn good at it. Or were.” Tom’s voice carried an edge of frustration. “Sarah’s gone, man. The guitar isn’t.”

Jake’s character died on screen. He tossed the controller aside. “You don’t get it.”

“Try me.”

“Every chord…” Jake’s jaw tightened. “Every damn chord reminds me of her.”

“Then make new memories.” Tom walked to the corner and picked up the guitar, its polished surface still gleaming beneath the dust. He held it out. “Play something. Anything.”

Jake stared at the instrument, his hands trembling slightly. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Tom set the guitar in Jake’s lap. “One song. That’s all I’m asking.”

Jake’s fingers brushed the strings, muscle memory taking over. A clear note rang out, then another. The melody was hesitant at first, like a person testing frozen water.

“See? World didn’t end,” Tom said softly.

Jake closed his eyes, letting his fingers find their way. The tune grew stronger, more confident. It wasn’t one of Sarah’s favorites - this was something new, something raw and honest.

“I’ve been working on a game,” Jake said between chords. “Design stuff. Small indie thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Need someone to compose the soundtrack.” The music didn’t stop. “Thought maybe…”

Tom smiled. “Sounds better than shooting zombies all day.”

Jake played the final chord, letting it ring out. The silence that followed felt different now - not empty, but full of possibility.

“She always said music was about moving forward,” Jake murmured, looking down at the guitar. “Guess I forgot that part.”

Tom stood up. “Coffee? We can talk about that game of yours.”

Jake nodded, carefully placing the guitar not in the corner, but on its stand by his desk. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

As they walked to the kitchen, sunlight caught the guitar’s strings, making them shine like new beginnings.