My Cardboard Balcony

"He plays the accordion?" "Yep." "He plays the accordion!" I propped my banjo against my knee and grinned, plucking away at the strings. It was always fun to eavesdrop on the American tourists who thought we all played flute and fiddle. Donal wove the accordion around his hands like a stretching tapestry, playing a melody as colorful as the rainbow.