He sat there, holding his guitar and tried to think of something to say other than thank you. Emily just looked at him. After a minute or so, Orrin st...od up. “Well, I better get back to work,” he said, then put his guitar in its case and left the office. Once in the hallway and out of sight, he took a deep swallow of air, leaned against the wall, hardly able to believe he had the nerve to play that music for her. While he worked, he hummed the melody and thought how Emily looked at him when he. By the time the moon had crossed over our heads we were both well on the way to being drunk. I was telling her about my job and the people I worked with when she asked me about the guy at my door earlier. “He’s kinda cute, is he married?” she quizzed. By this she was blurring her words, the beer and shots had thickened her tongue. “No, not married; he’s seeing a dancer from one of the casinos.” “A dancer, then he must like nice legs. Dancers have nice legs. Did I tell you I dance too? I studied. More

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