Exercise #1 He plucks the first string, his right thumb setting off the ripples in his veins. He feels the shudder in his left palm as the rosewood in the neck comes alive. Another strum with the edges of his nails and the inside of his elbow roars with the heat of the chord. His shoulders hunched over his prize, the wood shines in the candlelight and as his ears pull on his cheeks to give away his smile, his breaths grow shaky against its back. The pulsation escaping his heart through his fingers is a sweet, lonely tune, the slow beat of a story untold. Before he can help it, the melody evaporates from his lungs, leaving a glossy sheen on his cracking lips. His fingers abruptly silence the strings, the words coming back to him. He reaches over and scribbles a note, another lyric down. A million more to go. *** Exercise #2 She's been caught with the sly look in her eye, her lids in mid-droop. They say, “I'll never tell, but I dare you to ask.” There is no smile, but her mouth is outstretched, releasing a waft of the smoke, her gasp still leaking from her lungs. Her right shoulder is pushed forward and her chin jutted at the camera. Her jawline cuts the photo in two, a sharp shadow on her neck. Her shoulders are crimson, the tank top revealing the heat she's in. They hunch over her small frame, deepening the crevice in her chest she clutches with one slender hand covered in gold rings. She looks away, her focus already on the next big things.