Cantina Band

I slid in the door, unnoticed. The normal controlled chaos reigned supreme throughout the cantina. Conversations intertwined with plans, life stories crossed with laughter & growls. Politics & nonsense. Friends and enemies.

I’d had a rough day. I walked two miles in a downpour, got lost in a textbook’s dense passages, & recounted a literary scene way too many times for comfort. I was mounded with work.

Oh, if only there was just one more hour in the day!

I slipped out of my long tan coat, setting my case down by my ankles, & rubbed my hands over my tired face.

“Oy! Cecilia!”

I looked up to see the rest of the band saunter through the door. I smiled and raised my hand in greeting.

“Early like always?” the drummer asked, his accent thick.

“Yessir,” I replied, pulling out my clarinet.

“Well, we’re ready to go!” the bassoonist said, raising his instrument. The bass nodded.

“Alright boys, the standard?” I snapped my fingers in rhythm, smile on my face & in my heart. “One and two and three and four and…”

The End

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