… and so he walked through the haze of smoke towards the bar leaving his drink on the table to gather condensation. Her beautiful golden hair hung perfectly down her back, framed by the vibrant red dress. Her white-gloved-hand held a beautifully carved ivory quellazaire.
The music on the jukebox caught his attention, and he stopped. He hadn’t heard that song since he was a kid. And suddenly it was as if he was transported back in time. There she sat, his mother, listening to her gramophone. He was thirteen and his dad had just been killed in World War I, somehow the two times seemed to merge. He felt dizzy. Just the booze, has to be the booze, he thought. Steadying himself he walked up to the beautiful woman, such a striking resemblance to Linda, Christ I’m going nuts! he thought as fear tried to break through and overwhelm him. Then she turn, and their eyes locked. Her smiled failed to touch her lips.
“Crazy Jack, isn’t it?” she said pushing the gun towards him.
“Yeah, crazy. Linda… hell it can’t be you, you’re dead!” he said excitedly.
The stood there quietly listening to the jukebox play that old time melody, from 1918. Each one knew that their next actions held life or death. The song quieted, and slowly ended. The click-clack noises of the machine came to an end. They knew it was time.