In our lifelong search for memorable experiences, people seem to forget to enjoy the moment they find themselves in, all too often. It is not until such a moment passes that we find ourselves wishing we had done something differently to otherwise prolong the fleeting sensation. As soon as Alan had walked out of the room, quite as abruptly as he had come in, I might add, a deadening silence pervaded. I glanced at Lucy, who had since put down the keyboard and was thumbing through a magazine.
“Did that really just happen?” I asked her, with my palm open, staring at the sparkling silver pick that Alan had left behind. The pick itself was a standard size, but the inscription on the one side appeared to be carved by a novice, as far as I could tell. Perhaps the design had been intended, but the A was not properly formed and each of the roman numeral I’s were not of equal proportion.
“I don’t suppose you had your recorder on?” Lucy said, while appearing to cordon off her thoughts in no uncertain order. “I would like to listen to the last hour again.”
“So, you are saying that you also experienced the same thing that I just did? A strange man, calling himself Alan really just came in here and decided to jam with us? If I hadn’t been here, in the flesh, I would never believe such a thing to have happened.”
Lucy snickered and resumed perusing the pages of the magazine, as if she was not yet ready to openly interpret the preceding event. I walked over to the fridge and grabbed a cold soda. I flipped the top on the can, which let out a loud fizz, from the force of air being let out and drank down half of it in one giant gulp.
To be continued…