The smoke of cigarettes slipped between hushed voices and gentle clinks, punctuated by the splashing of liquid upon glass.
He inhaled the atmosphere, tasting the scents that lingered on his tongue. The low jazz wandered throughout the cobwebs and troubled hearts, coaxing a calm that demanded nothing in return.
However, this night the young man found no joy in the smooth melodies, just troubled memories of arguments, and the things she would never understand.
A large hand lightly touched his shoulder, and the gravelly, kind voice of the dive’s proprietor spoke.
“You doing okay, son? Seem a bit down.”
He turned and gave him a weary smile.
“Tired, Jacob. Maybe depressed. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, the band’s up and finished. While you’re deciding, why don’t you give us a tune?”
“I can’t—” but Jacob silenced him before he could finish.
“Yes, you can,” he stated. “You’ve always worked your problems out on the keys. Why should tonight be any different?”
Alexander sighed as he stood.
“Anything for you, boss.”