The night air was humid and sticky, unusual for this early in May, but a welcome respite from the cold chill of winter. Andi sauntered down the street, flip flops flapping a cadence on the moist pavement. Her mind picked up the beat and the first words in her mind were simply, "flip flop, flip flop" but then her musicians soul kicked in and she added a bit of bebop, "flippy-flop flop, flippety flop bop" and that brought a smile to her face. She hummed the tune, adding meter and notes in her brain, seeing the music now even as she was hearing the beat, creating a tune with melody and weaving a story of a girl and summer and rain.
She entered the cafe and immediately sat at a table and pulled the battered guitar case off her back, open it and with one easy, practiced movement, the old, tenderly worn instrument was in her lap, a pad and pen was on the scarred, somewhat sticky table and she was humming and strumming, noting and correcting.
"I'll haaaave an iced coffee, splash of soy.." she sang in between notes of her new tune to the patient waitress that Andi only noticed after a few long moments. The rest of the cafe was lost to her attention as well, but some of the other patrons noticed -her-. Long, stick straight brown hair, long, shapely legs that went from all the way there to way down there and a body that could stop a clock- if the clock was slow and the battery was losing its juice- and casual, if eclectically hippy chic clothing made her hard to overlook. She was not beautiful. There was something- quirky- about her looks, but take in toto she was pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way and when she began to sing her new song, her beauty grew and others stopped their perusal of cheap paperbacks, folded newspapers turned to the latest bad news of the day, and the tappity-tapping of keyboards to listen to Andi sing..
"Cheap flip flops from the dollar store, beat out a rhythm to keep me company.
I listen for you in the sound of the rains,
but hear nothing but the patter of water on pavement,
the sound of wind in the forgotten laundry, dirty now from the acid rains
that falls from the heavens like the burning tears of angels.."
the tune trailed off again to humming and strumming as she went back to melody-making and note-taking.