The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued

Page 438

Before he left, Kurt handed him a pick. It was cracked and faded, with the word “Whatever” scratched into it.

Mason woke up in his bedroom, the Walkman still humming. He checked his pocket. No pick. Just lint and a vague sense of relief. Nirvana weren’t gods. They were just guys. Lucky, loud, and maybe more than a little overrated, and they were sufficiently self-aware to know that, which suggests otherwise. But somehow, that made Mason feel better about his own band, his own noise, his own scribbled dreams.