He didn't know how to dance, but the scotch had softened him up a bit, and he swayed to the sounds of the band. No one was watching, he was still the only human being in the room, the very top floor, and it was dark except for the bandstand which was lit an eerie shade of blue. He wondered if the members of the band could even see him. Maybe they thought the two bartenders in the adjacent alcove were their only audience.

He listened now with everything he had, transfixed by the intricacies of the drums, a lacework of rhythms. His body was soft, and at some point as his hips drifted to the right, his feet followed. His hips swayed left, and his feet followed that way. So this was dancing. It wasn't so complicated. No counting out timing; the music flowed in synch with the world around him. Now, he too was in synch, his feet, his soul, with the guitar, the drums, the sax, and everything around him. His body in motion was aware of truths his mind had no words for.