« Get a real jOb. »
When I showed Dad a program I wanted to apply for, he barely glanced at the brochure.
« Music doesn’t pay the bills. Get a real job. »
« But you played music! »
« And look where it got me. »
He walked away.
Later that night, I caught him standing beside his old guitar, staring at it.
He turned off the light.
For a moment, I thought he might pick it up.
Instead, he turned off the light and went to bed.