At The Jazz Cafe

Inspired by Dave Brubeck’s “Take the “A” Train”.

At the Jazz Cafe

The air was thick with smoke. My lungs started to feel heavy. I spotted her straight away. She wore a satin red dress that flowed to the floor with a slit up her right thigh so high that it took my breath away. She walked from his table to the bar, gracefully manoeuvring through groping hands, her feet seemed to barely touch the floor. Though rowdy aristocrats and jealous wannabes surrounded him, he stood out like a sore thumb. His striking good looks made the women stare. With a fat cigar in his mouth and a glass of straight whisky in his right hand, he leaned back in the chair, looking bored. He seemed to be listening. His head moving ever so slightly to the sway of the saxophone and his feet lightly tapping to the swing of the drums. His eyes gave it away though. He was thinking of her.