She cursed when the
guitar string broke. She tried to keep going but it was impossible with
the wire dangling down the fretboard. It made a loud twanging noise
that made her curse even louder than was normally acceptable on this
street corner. The little girl was watching her, so she turned away
from the sidewalk and faced the wall behind her. "Damn it," she
muttered, and looking back over her shoulder, she saw the little girl
still there, watching, waiting. The collection hat sat between them.
Just a few coins and a dollar bill or two in the old cowboy headgear
her father had given her years ago. Not much, but enough for dinner
before she would knock again on the shelter door for the night.
Katarina nodded and the girl smiled back, showing gaps where teeth had
fallen out. Where was this child's parent? No one seemed to be tending
her. Katarina ignored the girl and dug into her case for another
string, slowing unwinding the broken one and rewinding the new one. The
guitar made a strange whirling noise as she twirled the peg and tried
to get the string in tune. It took longer than usual as the
uncooperative string seemed bent on going too sharp or too flat before
being herded into the right pitch. Katarina looked up. The girl was
gone. Good. Damn it, she muttered. The girl was gone, and so was the
hat.
