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It’s almost ten when I find myself sitting on the couch with the guitar across my lap. I’ve kept the volume low. Ruby hasn’t knocked once, and I’m reasonably sure she’s home because I heard water running next door earlier.

I play the verse, move into the chorus, then stop halfway through. Wrong. I change two chords and start again, but that isn’t right either. On the next attempt, I strip the chorus back and let the melody do more of the work. It sounds better for about fifteen seconds, then I hate that too.

I mutter something under my breath and start over.

One knock comes through the wall, and my hands stop. I look toward it. “Am I bothering you?”

There’s a pause before Ruby’s voice comes through. “No.”

That surprises me enough that I set the guitar down across my thighs. “Then what was the knock for?”

Another pause. “Why do you keep changing the chorus?”

I stare at the wall. “You’ve been listening?”

“You’ve played it about twelve times. I’d have to leave the building not to listen.”

I’m smiling now. “You counting?”

“Do you want to know what’s wrong with your song or not?”

I set the guitar carefully against the couch and move closer to the wall. “You think something’s wrong with it?”

“I think you think something’s wrong with it.”

I sit down on the floor and lean my back against the wall, suddenly aware that she’s probably only a few feet away on the other side. “Helpful.”

“I’m serious. Every time you get to the chorus, you make it bigger.”

“That’s usually what a chorus does.”

“Not what I mean.”

I wait, but she doesn’t continue. “Ruby?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to explain it.”

A faint sound comes through the wall, something shifting against the floor, and a few seconds later her voice sounds closer. She must be sitting against the wall too, which makes the space between our two houses suddenly feel a lot smaller.

“Okay,” she says. “The verses feel like dark colors.”

I smile. “Dark colors.”

“You asked.”

“I’m listening.”

“The verses aren’t sad exactly, but they feel heavy. Like charcoal, deep blue, maybe dark green. Then you get to the chorus, and suddenly everything gets bright.”

I tip my head back against the wall. “That’s bad?”

“It just doesn’t feel like the same picture.”

I think about the song while she keeps going.

“It’s like you spent all this time building something with shadows and texture, then decided the center needed to be bright red because you wanted everyone to look at it.”

I laugh softly. “That sounds very specific.”