That's something he can do. In fact, he plays the first song he remembers ever playing with her in mind: it's Julia's song. The one from the music box. He's played it so many times over the years he's surprised it hasn't worn away the surface on the saxophone's keys... but he takes good care of the instrument.
When he plays, his eyes close -- as if he could force them to stay open -- and he lets the music carry him. Today, it takes him back to the smoky confines of the Rester House and its tiny stage. His fellow musicians. The patrons. The bartender, a genuinely nice man who always did his best to keep the creeps away.
Julia sitting on the corner bar stool, looking like a million Woolongs, like a breath of fresh air even while the smoke clung to her face.
The scene in his mind shimmers and shifts: he's still at the Rester House but now it's Faye sitting on that same corner stool, smoking moodily, sneezing occasionally, drinking rapidly.
As the song wends in and out and makes its way to the finish, his eyes open into slits. Playing this song almost puts him into a trance, and it's a moment or two before he's fully aware of his present surroundings again.
no subject
When he plays, his eyes close -- as if he could force them to stay open -- and he lets the music carry him. Today, it takes him back to the smoky confines of the Rester House and its tiny stage. His fellow musicians. The patrons. The bartender, a genuinely nice man who always did his best to keep the creeps away.
Julia sitting on the corner bar stool, looking like a million Woolongs, like a breath of fresh air even while the smoke clung to her face.
The scene in his mind shimmers and shifts: he's still at the Rester House but now it's Faye sitting on that same corner stool, smoking moodily, sneezing occasionally, drinking rapidly.
As the song wends in and out and makes its way to the finish, his eyes open into slits. Playing this song almost puts him into a trance, and it's a moment or two before he's fully aware of his present surroundings again.