He married Miss June on a spring morning under the same tree where he’d once carved his name as a boy. She laughed all the way through the vows because the preacher sneezed so hard he dropped his Bible.
They built a little house on the edge of town and filled it with music, laughter, and the kind of peace you can’t find on a stage.
On summer nights, Eli would sit outside with his old guitar, kids gathered around, fireflies blinking like tiny applause.
