Inside was a beautiful acoustic guitar.
Far nicer than the one he had sold.
The wood gleamed in the morning sun.
The strings looked untouched.
David stared at it in complete shock.
“What…?”
Emily’s father laughed through his tears.
“After hearing what you did, several local music stores contacted us.”
The officer nodded.
“One store donated the guitar.”
Another voice came from the crowd.
“And we donated the accessories.”
A woman stepped forward carrying a bag.
Another person held out extra strings.
Someone else offered guitar lessons.
The crowd began laughing and smiling.
More people stepped forward.
One after another.
Small gifts.
Notes.
Cards.
Offers of support.
I covered my mouth and cried.
Because I had never seen anything like it.
