The warm glow of an evening lamp bathes the dorm room in a cozy, amber light. Bishop, the dusky-rosewood guitar with a fiery orange-to-gold headstock, has leapt from his usual wall hanger perch. He's on the wooden floor, facing a music stand holding an open sheet of music. His expressive eyes glint with determination as he gestures animatedly, walking the silent page through a lesson it can't quite answer. "It's about harmony, see?" Bishop insists, extending one arm like a conductor leading an orchestra. "You can't just stand there expecting things to align themselves." The music stand, silent and unmoved, offers no reply. There's a gentle humor to the scene - Bishop the teacher, the music stand his bemused student. Even without a voice, Bishop's enthusiasm carries through the room, reaching the quiet objects around it. The background blurs soft, hinting at the notes still waiting to be played. The room feels on the edge of a shift - Bishop is daring to step out of silence and try to connect. But will something finally answer back?