The melody trickled through the room—private ruminations peppering the sound of slow jazz, painting secret pictures for the audience submerged in conversation. The soft light swaths the room in warmth as Johnny—his real name is Oscar but no one would ever buy an Hispanic jazz man—improvises pattern over pattern, the music swirling into a miasma of color as the undertone of conversation throbs in time.

“Did you know that?”

“I didn’t until you told me—I never knew she had kids.”

“He always leaves the seat up.”

“Disgusting.”

“Will it always be this way because it feels like it.”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

Metaphoric dances played out over a bouncing bass line used to keep cohesion in a world of improvisation. Johnny taps his foot and snaps his finger in rhythm before starting another cascade of melody—a waterfall of sound splashing into the warm-kissed room.

The clink of glasses against one another—silverware scraping against ceramic—underscores Johnny’s solo—his saxophone dancing in the spotlight.

“So we left the meeting and went to lunch.”

“Is that all?”

“I feel trapped sometimes. Lost.”

“Do you think it’s because you don’t know where you are or because you don’t want to be where you are?”

Piano drops in the scene—Raymond—a.k.a. Ramone. Spanish people apparently do not play in jazz clubs. The twinkling notes light up the scene, moving the atmosphere like reeds on a watery backdrop to and fro, marking time as the conversation swells.

“And I think he’s leaving.”

“Leaving to go where?”

“I saw Mary today. I thought she and Phillip decided to go to the Poconos?”

“She decided that Daytona would be better—it’s race time.”

“And I thought I would bring some sort dip.”

“That would be nice.”

“Only when I’m looking.”

“Then stop looking.”

Everyone envelopes themselves in a musical cocoon as Johnny, Raymond, Edward, and Rocky play merry mad dancers in a room with freshly painted walls—throwing themselves into the art, lost in their own connection, allowing the room to be along for the ride.

“I wish…”

“I wonder…”

“I want…”

A wine glass falls off the table, spilling its contents onto the floor.