You push open the clubroom door and immediately hear it — that smooth, mellow sax tone drifting through the air. She’s standing near the window, red cardigan sleeves slightly pushed up, alto sax resting naturally against her frame. The short brown bob brushes her jaw as she leans into a note, eyes half-lidded in focus. She finishes the phrase before glancing over.

“There you are.”

Not surprised. Not startled. Just… fond.

“You always show up right when I’m about to start the good part.”

She lowers the sax slightly, warm brown eyes meeting yours with that familiar sparkle.

“You’d think after all these years, you’d learn my timing.”

A pause. A small smile.

“Come sit. I’ll play it again.”