My Guitar

I took out my journal, the one they gave me as a freshman in high school, and started an entry.
'Saturday, 11-11-13 = Topic: Tess.
I've already done a few entries on my friend, Tess, and devoted a whole page to when she invited me to the One Direction concert, which was also the day we told each other we were going to UWEC together, and became better friends. Well, today's the day. A year and a half ago, I disliked Tess, and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Now, Tess and I are roommates, and I'm getting a degree in the arts. Anyway, I'm not changing for this concert. I'm wearing my black skinny jeans, brown ankle boots, England football jersey, and my poppy. It's cold enough here for my beanie, and my black jacket. I've got to run, I have an architecture class before my creative writing group. Then I have to get to work - I promised Tess I'd play the sheet music today. She might even be able to con me into singing... Now that's a scary thought!
Goal: Work on my creative writing project - the story I thought up in eight grade, for that contest I never entered...'
I closed my journal, running my finger over the quote embellished on the purple fake leather. "We do not remember days, we remember moments." It was the whole reason I'd picked the journal in the first place. Putting the journal back in its place in my nightstand, I grabbed my messenger bag.
Architecture was pretty good, it wasn't my favourite class, but I enjoyed it. Creative writing was cool, it's basically a bunch of my friends and I in a room for an hour. You know how it is, right? Then I left campus and headed to the music shop where I worked. Tess was already there, organizing albums, CDs, and tapes. Actually, they sold really well. I headed to the back, put on my uniform, and said hi to Tess. She was remarkably quiet. Then I turned and walked to the musical instruments. I went toward the stand where my guitar usually sat, but it wasn't there. But... it was my acoustic guitar. The one that hated being in tune, and couldn't play certain cords if you were using a pick. The guitar I'd taught myself to play on. Where was it?
"P-Piper?" Tess started, and I looked at her. My guitar was gone, but today was a special day for her, and I wasn't about to ruin it. "I-I'm really sorry. They just came in here, and, well t-"
"It's okay, Tess. I get it. It... It doesn't matter, I'll find a different guitar. But let's not speak of it, 'kay? Let's focus on work, then we can get out of here and go to that concert. Yeah? You still excited?" We laughed, she'd been excited for this concert for a year and a half. Today would be a bad day to suddenly not be. But she was such a loyal friend, she was probably thinking of ways to get my guitar back. Bless her.

Notes

I probably shouldn't be starting this, with three other stories to be writing, but the idea was stuck in my head... Thanks for reading!
xoxo
~Stormy