Buretto-B

It was three weeks since they first met. It was the 29th of July, and they were practically inseparable, but for irony’s sake, Paul was leaving for scout camp today, and then following after that, not coming back until maybe a month later when school would start up again. John found out about this only the day before though, and honestly was a bit hurt at first, just as soon as they were becoming truly close, Paul had to leave. It was the early morning, and John, had entered Paul’s bedroom window with his mysterious unspoken of ways to talk a bit before he left. He had looked forward to another month or so of summer with him, as a

 It was days later, Paul had been sitting in his room alone, listening to music again for the first time. Suddenly, his door opened and George was at the door frame.   “Hey, why am I the last to know that you’re communicatin’, huh? How are ya?” Paul sat up a bit, getting off his bed and turned his record player off. He shrugged a bit at him and offered him a coke from under his bed.   “So,” George opened the coke up with his teeth, “What’s been going on recently?” He grinned, seeing how he’d finally have a somewhat normal conversation with his friend for the fist time since last y

  “John, your little friend’s here!” Mimi called as she looked out the window, and John opened the door to Paul with his guitar, leading him upstairs as they played together, and John putting on his glasses again to look at the chords. D, B minor, G, and A, and John started singing.   /”Blue moon… You saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own…”/ Paul sat alongside him, playing for John first, then letting him play. He listened to John sing and it made Paul happy inside. He wished he could sing with him, but he kept his mouth shut and wrote out his thoughts.   Jo

     July 6th. Ivan practically dragged the fifteen year old and his dusty guitar that hadn’t been played for months halfway to the garden fete as an intervention for his friend, whom hadn’t spoken a single word, sang a single note, or played a single tune since October. In fact, the boy had barely socialized at all since he isolated himself after the sudden death of his mother.     “Come on, Paul, we're going to be late!" He called him, and scurried ahead towards the various sounds of the event. Ivan desperately wanted his friend to be himself again, or at least say something.     Paul rolled his eyes and followed Ivan, m