@collicr
IT was early, very early in fact. that rare hour that came even after the early morning stragglers drunkenly stumble their way back to any place that resembled home after a full night’s pub crawl. lily’s band, which consisted of only herself and the bar’s regular pianist (so really, just her and a pianist) were the last to leave and after a sudden spell of generosity, she told him she would stay back to lock up. so she was the only one left behind, struggling with a key that refused to fulfill its one role. for no real reason, she spared a glance at the mouth of the alleyway and that was when she spotted him. smoke swirled around his head like a fog, his face lit up with every inhale. at this time, were they any other person lily might have had the smarts to be afraid. with him, she could not think to do anything else but greet him with a smile. “bonsoir monsieur,” she cooed, hoping to catch his attention. “you look like someone who could use a happy tune.”