The last song

She sat perched on the tall stool, the smoky jazz music fusing with the heady malt whisky. Heat lingering on her tongue well after the last swallow of the golden fluid. The cigarette smoke drifting in wafts across the hot, dimly lit club reminded her of the ghosts of a past time.

A members only retreat from the rigours of life. It was always hot and the music beat a throbbing tune, low and fast, then slow and funky. She loved this place and how the clientele seemed to meld with their surroundings, synchronising their excited chatter with the band breaking for drinks.

Letting her shoe slip, only her slender toes holding it inches from the floor, she placed her ivory ankle against the chrome and leather. The cooler temperature sending a quiver up to her thigh. She closed her gold-flecked jade eyes and a flicker breath passed her full lips. She'd decided to come here too soon and now she was trying to forget, but was visiting old ground helping ...
What was it the Americans called it ... ''closure''.

She didn't expect or want closure. She wanted to remember the whole thing. All of it. That's why she was here now. Where it all started.

The music had stopped and applause roared in her ears. The whisky was replaced and the next song began. Jazz fused with soulful notes. Her song. Christian's song. But she was alone, drinking whisky. A crystal glass filled with memories. The kind that flickered in and out as the lights caught the facets of the glass, shining amber jewels hanging, without strings, in the dark.

She looked through the crowd. Many different faces, all expectant, wanting things, the impossible and possible. All melted together. Inseparable. All with dreams and hopes.
She couldn't do anything for them. Couldn't fulfil their needs. But like her they felt the music and absorbed the moment. Like minded people. Free from all other thoughts. A few hours free from worry, who could begrudge them.

She felt her mind slipping away from the song she knew by heart, to a happier time. When she and Christian would come here together, earlier than the usual after - dinner crowd and sit at the bar sipping their drinks. Talking and laughing they lived for each other. They were happy with their life, as one.

She dragged her mind back to the present. The song was ending, like her life as she knew it. Christian was dead. She felt the sparkle of tears in her dark-lashed eyes and turned to hide the betrayal of her emotions. She couldn't imagine crying in public. Not now, not ever.

Now she was famous it would have been splashed across the front page of every tabloid in hours. Christian wouldn't have wanted that for her. Not like before when she was just starting out and had the audience spellbound as she sashayed amongst them. Singing from the depths of her heart, just for them. Songs Christian had written, for her.

Breathing out the last few words she graciously received the rapturous applause. And the next song commenced. Just as life goes on. With or without you.