He played on his tambourine while she played her sax. She jazzed and he jazzed, and the night was hot. Sweat poured from pores under hot green lights.
Later in the parking lot, they'd load into separate cars and say mundane nice things about each other. The audience will have expressed their passion passionately. The dancers will have left their hearts on the floor. These musicians, though, felt something akin to enlightenment, a being of the music. But now, in the afterglow of appreciation, insecurities will rear up. The musicians will only be able to smile and high five. Choking back their own fears. They'll be glad and confused and worried, because that can happen when all they've given is all they are and are they enough? Did they give enough? Or in the moment, did they lie to themselves and keep something back from fear?
