Since the band broke up last May, I hadn’t picked up a guitar for an earnest practice until last week…
Two days after
I found the photographed blister on my finger the next morning. The swelling disappeared, but it filled with blood, and it’s even darker today.
I raised a guitar-playing blister on my finger only one other time in my life: one preparation day on the mission, spent at an inactive member’s house, playing his guitar. (Yes, sounds rather apostate. Whatever.) That was a blister to remember: it was over a quarter of an inch high. It was on the same finger: left hand, ring finger. Ah, memories.