Operetto in the Key of Rest
Copyright© 2024 by ffwd
Prelude
FFlloyd, itinerant piano player and cathouse swamper,
Eased thru the swinging saloon doors.
His eyes darted back and forth,
From the piano to the bar.
From the bar to the women lounging along the bannister up the stairs.
“ ... to heaven...” Fflloyd prayed.
You don’t get around much if you think it was a holy prayer.
Fflloyd’s eyes roamed the room as he slouched away from the door And stood, back to the wall while he noted the two – no three -professional gamblers scattered at tables around the room. And noted the gun-tough, also back to the wall and facing the door. That one, his face hardened each time the doors swung open. Gun-tough. Rising from a table with an oath, an unlucky man stormed across the room to the bar. Without a word, the bartender reached to the top shelf and poured that bottle into a large glass. The unlucky man must not have tasted the drink, he slammed it back so quickly.
Ears alarmed, Fflloyd glanced to the piano. She was not even sitting.
“To properly position the fingers where one might reach the keys And to simultaneously reach the treble with your right And the bass with your left It is required to sit at the piano.” Fflloyd had not even realized that he was lifting her hand as if dancing And lowering her to the bench at the piano.