She sat at the old piano in Flattery's Place, her fingers resting lightly on the ivories. I walked up, lit a cigarette and smiled. "Play my song, Pam."
She looked up and grinned. Two of her front teeth were missing, but she had a beautiful face. My suit was shabby and thirty years old. Who was I to find fault? She played one mean piano, and I really appreciated her talent, and that's what mattered.
She began plunking the keys, and I hummed along. I stood swaying beside the rickety old piano; she rocked back and forth to the tune. Man oh man, I was in heaven.
When she finished, I plunked my last five bucks on the keyboard, and she snapped it up. "That's kind of pretty," she said. "But you know, I can never remember the name of that song."
"Me neither," I said. "But I sure do like it. Play it again, Pam."
She looked up and grinned. Two of her front teeth were missing, but she had a beautiful face. My suit was shabby and thirty years old. Who was I to find fault? She played one mean piano, and I really appreciated her talent, and that's what mattered.
She began plunking the keys, and I hummed along. I stood swaying beside the rickety old piano; she rocked back and forth to the tune. Man oh man, I was in heaven.
When she finished, I plunked my last five bucks on the keyboard, and she snapped it up. "That's kind of pretty," she said. "But you know, I can never remember the name of that song."
"Me neither," I said. "But I sure do like it. Play it again, Pam."
