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Submission to SWC Writing Contest

My fingers flew up and down, a pick carefully tucked between my fingers.
“D… F… C… D…” I muttered to myself taking note of all the notes I was playing. It was hard to play guitar and write music at the same time, so why do it at all? I finished my last strums and scribbled down the final notes just as I heard my mother calling me.
“Dora?” she called from downstairs. It's nearly time for us to go. Are you ready, or are you wasting your time on that useless instrument again?"
My cheeks flamed even though nobody was around, embarrassed that I was not ready, and upset that with my mom for calling Jordan a “useless instrument”.

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