Everyday, she went to the jazz club.
She always wore minimalistic clothing, such as a plain red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She had beautiful pale skin and light green eyes. Her caramel hair flowed down her back like a waterfall. Her beauty was delicate in ways that no one could see.
The jazz club was a second home to her. She walked in, found a table, and sat down. A sigh escaped from her as the soft tone of the saxophone filled the atmosphere.
A waiter approached her with a kind smile. "Hello, miss. The usual?"
"Yes, thank you," she replied, returning the smile.
Her eyes traveled over to the windows, where several couples passed by. They all smiled brightly, radiating a type of happiness that could only be caused by love.
She watched a man gaze at a woman with deep adoration in his eyes, and a sad frown crawled onto her face. All she ever wanted was for someone to love her as strongly as she would love them.
The abrupt blare of a trumpet startled her; she jumped slightly from her seat. She whipped her head around to find the musician.
It was a beautifully dark-skinned man wearing a loose white shirt with a black blazer. He held the trumpet at his mouth, waiting for his moment.
This time, the sound was different. It was actually music, instead of just noise.
She narrowed her eyes at the man. She had been going to the same jazz club almost every night for the past two months, yet she had never seen him. He was new, she realized, but he definitely didn’t act like it.
As he stood on the small stage, with the golden instrument in his hands, he looked as if he had been performing there for all his life. Even with such a small instrument, he owned the stage.
She barely noticed when the waiter arrived with her piña colada and curly fries. Her eyes were firmly fixated on the man; she was completely captivated.
And for the first time, she genuinely had something to look forward to, every night.