The bard unsheathed his lute, checked its tuning and, once satisfied with the pitch of each string, took out a piece of charcoal and a scrap of parchment from his satchel.

A moment to himself, rudimentary writing utensils, and his stringed partner in crime. All the pieces were in place for him to create his next masterpiece.

Sarah huffed. “Reading is boring. Scales are boring. I just want to play music. I mean come on, I’m fifteen! Let me play something that isn’t Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for once.”

“I actually might have an idea,” Victor said. “But let me check with your parents first, okay?”

Robert the luthier runs a small shop in an alley off to the side of the main road. There isn't as much hustle and bustle over there and he doesn’t get a steady flow of new customers, but the old ones are very loyal and manage to keep him afloat.

“A flamenco show?” I finally asked after processing the paper that was crudely glued onto the wood. “Could we look any more like tourists right now?”

“Well, we could order a sangría,” she replied with a chuckle, already pushing open the doors and making her way inside, greeting some strangers along the way.

I was left no choice but to go in with her.