Melody was still watching, her smile growing bigger as I looked at her. Then she pointed at me and mouthed, "NOW YOU!" I smiled, looking down at the guitar to avoid my whole head getting red in front of everyone. As I felt my face blush against my will, I just shook my head and said "too late" under my breath.Strumming an E chord, I started through the intro to a song I wrote many years ago that I called ‘One Last Dance’. As I tried to remember the lyrics I stumbled a bit here and there, but managed to pull through. My whole goal was to get through to the chorus because I knew I could recite that in my sleep after all these years. Finally, after strumming the last chord, the audience applauded once again. I smiled and simply said, "Thank you so much!" and walked back into the crowd again.Stepping up to Melody's table, I handed the guitar back to her and turned to sit back down at my table. "You realize," she said, stopping me in my tracks, "that after surviving my little trial by. Or a casual hookup from a casual meeting." I sighed. "That's not me. So..." So I understand, then. You really are a throwback from a bygone era. Is there a time machine somewhere that I don't know about?" Things don't die abruptly when civilization changes, Jo. Somebody has to be the first. Then there's the swell, the era of an idea, a condition, a set of standards. And then as the age dies, the numbers who hold the idea thin out, and eventually there has to be the last one." You're not the last one," Jo said. "but the numbers are getting thin on the ground." A heavy sigh and then, "You know, this is so awfully serious," in a little girl's voice. "How about that Mozart concerto for Flute and Harp?"She reached into the back seat and in a couple of minutes a silver flute touched trained lips and magic resulted. She played bits, and then she played snippets of other pieces, happy, lively, lilting, uplifting. She dropped the instrument to her lap."Better?" Better," I said. "Definitely.
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