A great story with an amazing dialogue.
The night was young, almost too young for the kind of excitement I craved. But I found the perfect dark corner booth left of the bar and adjacent to the low bar-stage. The music stops abruptly as I get comfortable and a burly man comes on to announce a young new act named, Ena. She is young, but not that young. Strands of loose hair danced across her eyes as she got comfortable on the lone stool under the spotlight. She tuned her guitar slightly and allowed a spell of silence to still the air before breathing “Take me home where I belong, I can’t take it anymore” into the room.
Ena’s voice is raw, softly distinct and nearly stripped of all emotion, except for how she dragged the vowels of each last syllable with a tired wail. She sang of a tortured heart, of innocence lost at childhood and…
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