Debbie gave me the organ for free. She said the Freemasons had given it to her and all she wanted was to pass it along to someone who would use it well. She was happy I took it.

Emma drove me to the procedure, and said she’d help out. There were other things on our minds, and we could have brought them up, but the drive was too beautiful to ruin. So instead we joked about space themed restaurants. And when we passed the abandoned milkbar we decided simultaneously to move to the country together.

We never mentioned the logistics of getting the organ out of Debbie’s and into mine, or whether or not it would even fit. We didn’t even bring up the likeliness of it bursting on the drive back, all over the leather interior. All I really said on the matter was how I couldn’t wait to play. We were both happy to keep the windows up on the highway.

Debbie had a firefighter from across the way come over, just in case we needed any extra help. As it turns out we didn’t. All it took was a spiraling crash, a couple broken toes, and one permanent scratch across my hardwood skin.. but all is well now. It’s home with me safe and sound. We get along. Scars are cool.

And I can play now. Today I sent Debbie an audio recording of me doing so. But she didn’t answer. So I asked her how she was doing. And she told me business could probably be better.