The rain had been falling since dawn, turning the streets of Nashville into shining rivers of gray. For most people, it was the kind of day that called for blankets and coffee. For Aria James, it was the kind of day that begged for music.
She sat on the floor of her tiny apartment, guitar in her lap, surrounded by notebooks that looked like they had survived a war. Each one was filled with lyrics, crossed-out lines, and doodles of stars and song titles she never finished. The smell of rain drifted through the cracked window, mixing with the faint scent of cheap takeout.
