Every road brings you
back to Evangeline’s.

She came in to escape the rain. That was the explanation she gave Evangeline, anyway. The blue umbrella was still dripping when the first notes reached her.

“Waiting for someone?” Evangeline asked.

“I used to be.”

Evangeline set a glass of water on the table nearest the piano. “Then this is a very good place to begin.”

For the first time in months, she stayed somewhere without watching the door.

Every Thursday, the man in the grey coat asked for the same table. He ordered one drink and moved the second chair just a little away from the wall.

Tonight, a woman stopped beside it. “You still do that?”

“You always said the chair was too close.”

Neither of them found the right words. Across the room, Evangeline turned the music up a little. Sometimes a song could carry what a conversation couldn’t.

The room had emptied, leaving a forgotten scarf and the faint scent of rain. Evangeline slipped off her shoes.

“One more?” the pianist asked.

She smiled, holding out a hand to an invisible partner. For a few minutes she was not the keeper of everyone else’s stories. She was simply a woman dancing in the place she had dreamed into being.

Outside, the sky began to change. Inside, the light stayed gold.