Snapshot

It's raining outside.

It's 9:30 pm.

Turf Club is soaked in dark red light. The crowd is subdued and content, a Sunday night sort of crowd.

I am perched at the bar and nursing a glass of ice water. My muscles are tired and loose from running earlier. I still have shower mist in my hair. The pianist is sitting in the corner and playing Pink Floyd and Tears For Fears.

Then he starts playing a song that I know but I don't know. It is so pretty that I am stupified and frozen. Something in me uncoils. I never want this song to end.