Personal Narrative: The Jazz Band

The place is busy, men and women mingling to my left, and to my right dancing to the jazz music that filled the air, played by an all negro band. I spent an unknown amount of time staring into space until I poured the last glass the bottle has to offer. Just as I took the last sip, a woman arrived, catching my eye. She's a keen little thing, petite and blonde. She reminded me of the women I'd checked out on the street earlier, but there was something interesting about her, something I couldn't get enough of. I watch her saunter over to the bar and pull herself up onto a stool. I'm impressed as I watch her down an entire first glass. With a bit of a buzz going, I had no problem gathering the confidence to approach her. Before standing from my lonesome table, I slip my wedding band into my pocket. I waltz to up to the bar with an extra pep

"Did you decide that now was a good time for you to go shopping?" "I thought now was as a good a time as any", I replied, "I thought that since you were already with me that I should get you something. I know how much you like listening to that jazz band, so I thought I would get you a radio so you could listen to it whenever you wanted to." Her eyes lit up and her jaw dropped. She was so blown away she could barely thank me. We arrived at her apartment and I stopped her for a moment to kiss her before entering her apartment. Her cheeks turned pink as I pulled away. Once we were inside, I began to fumble with the radio while Clara pulled out a bottle of wine. After some fuzzy crackling and antenna adjustment a loud roar came through the speakers followed by a voice chanting that Babe Ruth had just gotten a home run. She giggled with excitement while I tuned into a jazz station. I got one to come through clear and Clara pulled me closer to her, inviting me to dance. We spun around her kitchen with wine glasses in our hands for the rest of the night until we passed out on the