The Last Patient at Midnight
The jazz was bleeding through the floorboards of my clinic, which meant Clara was still playing at the Onyx Club two blocks away. It was past midnight, and the saxophone had that particular ache it got around 1 AM, when the dancers were tired but the music was just finding its second wind. I did not invite her in. I never invited her in. But I heard it every night, drifting up from the street...
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