Saturday mornings at the Dragon were often quiet. Winter sun poured through the windows, illuminating the interior of the in, quashing many of the usual shadows. Alli sat alone at the bar; she was in a vintage style 40s pencil suit with red instrimed, beneath the jacket was a red tank top that pulled her together for just enough cleavage. On her feet were a pair if red dock martins with black trim and laces.
Alli had drumsticks in her manicured hands; she was taptapping away at the bartop. The beat she was carrying was steady; she was getting better. At the end of each loop of her beat, she'd pause to scoop up her toast and take a CHOMP, proceeding then to chew to the beat.
Click, clack, clickclackclackclick, click...CHOMP.
After awhile, and the end of the toast, her beat got more intense, adding her feet. They kicked against the bar to the beat.
Clock, thumpthump, clickclackthumpclackclick, thumpclickthump.
And there she sat, practicing and passing her Saturday.
_________________
Alli had drumsticks in her manicured hands; she was taptapping away at the bartop. The beat she was carrying was steady; she was getting better. At the end of each loop of her beat, she'd pause to scoop up her toast and take a CHOMP, proceeding then to chew to the beat.
Click, clack, clickclackclackclick, click...CHOMP.
After awhile, and the end of the toast, her beat got more intense, adding her feet. They kicked against the bar to the beat.
Clock, thumpthump, clickclackthumpclackclick, thumpclickthump.
And there she sat, practicing and passing her Saturday.
_________________