Lina lived near a small farm. The barn was red. The fence was white. The air smelled like sweet hay.
Lina held a little guitar. It was brown with shiny strings. Lina hugged it tight.
“I want to play,” Lina said.
She sat on the porch step. Her feet swung back and forth. Her hands went to the strings.
Plink. Plonk. TWANG.
Lina frowned. “It sounds messy.”
A hen walked by. Peck, peck, peck. A cow said, “Moo.” A sheep said, “Baa.”
Lina tried again. Her fingers poked very fast.
Plink-plink-plink. Twang!
“Ow,” Lina said. Her finger felt sore.
Lina’s Grandma came outside. Grandma wore a soft scarf. She sat close and smiled.
“You want to play music,” Grandma said. “But your hands are moving too fast.”
Lina huffed. “I don’t like slow.”
Grandma pointed to the farm path. “Come. Let’s look at the animals.”
Lina stood up. She held the guitar by the neck.
They walked to the chicken coop. The sun felt warm.
The hen looked at Lina. Peck, peck.
Grandma said, “Look at the hen. She eats one seed. Then one seed. Then one seed.”
Grandma nodded. “She does not eat all the seeds at once.”
Lina looked at her guitar strings. “One string?”
