One of Emily’s parents stepped forward.
Her mother wiped tears from her eyes.
“Yes, you did.”
David shook his head.
“I was only trying to help.”
Emily smiled.
“And you did.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Emily’s father cleared his throat.
“There’s something else.”
He walked toward David carrying a large rectangular case.
My son immediately recognized it.
His eyes widened.
“No way.”
The case was black.
Hard-shell.
Brand new.
And unmistakably shaped like a guitar case.
David looked confused.
“What is that?”
Emily’s father smiled.
“Open it.”
Slowly, David unlatched the case.
The second the lid lifted, his eyes filled with tears.
