This is a work in progress inspired one of my friends I work with and jazz..... so here it goes
There he stood behind the counter in his red apron. A lanky silhouette of a fellow almost always in the background and almost always singing songs in his head. The coffee timers and frothing milk, noises that daily surrounded him, were not the beats for which he cared. The snapping of his fingers and taps of his feet came only from the rhythms he played in his head. Silent to the world around him but melodic to his soul. He had once traveled to Paris disguised as an Au Pair but secretly studied the music on the streets after tucking little Harry into bed. He wandered aimlessly searching for a beat he had never heard nor would recognize. But four months later he found himself back in the states behind a coffee shop counter still searching for his song.
