Adrift

Daniel wasn’t looking at us. With his head bowed and his fedora pulled low over his eyes, his gaze followed his left hand as it flew over the neck of his guitar. (…) He danced, played with the notes, until suddenly it was over. There were a few seconds of stunned silence, and then a deep sense of admiration welled up in me. I started clapping. The whole club joined in immediately, and Daniel looked up shyly. His beardless sixteen-year-old face suddenly shocked me. I had forgotten that this was my little brother. But he was surprised too, as if he couldn’t believe that it was me who was clapping so loudly.