The-Dancer-Downstairs
The piano sounded different in Bayou Point than it did in New Orleans. In the city, the piano was a voice among many—jazz trumpets, washboard, the clatter of beer glasses at the French Quarter corners. Here, it was the only voice. The rest of the town spoke in whispers and sidelong glances. Delphine Boudreaux sat at the upright piano in the corner of her establishment and played a chord that...
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