The maestro

The maestro cleared his throat nervously. The spotlight was bright and aimed straight at his face.
In a way, it helped in that it blanked out the audience. It was a full house. People who could not get seats were standing in the aisle.
He tested the strings on his guitar. He had tuned it an hour back and set it to a perfect pitch, but he was now worried.
‘What if a string snaps in the middle of the performance?’
His hands were shaking, ‘Nerves’, he thought.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘No one can stop me now.’ he said to himself, closed his eyes and started.

“If you want to sleep, keep the guitar aside.”
His mother’s voice made him open his eyes.
He looked around him and sighed.
He said, “I will make my dream come true!” and began strumming his guitar again.