Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

All eyes turned, then followed her to the jukebox in the corner. It seemed as if she knew every song, every line, every last lick. But she made them all sound new, like it was the first time all over again.

She moved with ease and elegance. She spoke with strength and clarity. I cut through the smoky crowd.

I must get closer. In her I saw a reflection of my very soul. Within her voice was my voice. I must have this curvy Gibson.

Or regret it. If not today, then soon. And for the rest of my life.

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