Every neighborhood has a room like this one, and every room like this has somebody chewing a pen at a decision. She's curled into the corner of a dark couch, red pen between her teeth like it owes her money, eyes on something past the wall — a lyric, a chord, an excuse. Behind her, taped slightly crooked, a poster reads 'Soul Jazz — Guitar About,' which is either a band, a mood, or a to-do list she wrote for herself and framed. The teal jacket with the navy stripes says she came straight from class or practice and never went home to change, which tracks. Long black hair everywhere, one foot lost in a pink slipper that means the day has fully committed to indoors. I spent years in rooms exactly like this one, hunched over notebooks where half the lines were songs and the other half were apologies. The pen goes in the mouth when the thinking gets serious. Everyone knows this. Somewhere in that couch cushion there are three pens, two picks and a receipt that was going to mean something. She'll find the line eventually. The good ones always come when your mouth is full of red plastic.
#animeart #songwriting #soulsessions #lateafternoon
