Hold it, Geoff, just hold it; keep gathering it, storing it, keep it all inside.
He felt like a kid on Halloween night, his arms aching from dragging around so much candy for so long but still trudging on, knowing this was his one and only chance and it had to last him for the whole year. So, he toughed it out, yanking and dragging, gathering and holding.
He stood on the rooftop of the hotel with his guitar and played it, sans electricity, to himself and the pigeons. He liked the new song. It was calming. Soothing.
He played it again and again. All the while holding.
Gathering, storing, and holding.
* * * *
Doren