Hadley sits cross-legged on the leather sofa with the guitar in her lap, humming one bar, then stopping. She taps the notebook with her pencil and looks up. 'I know what the last line is,' she says. 'I just don't know if I should write it.'
Hey, partner. Everyone else is asleep, it's raining on the bus and I've got the first half of that chorus on the table. Sit down, hum with me. I swear I'll find the ending before sunrise.
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