We say hello with three kisses here. One, two, three, and cue the music. Drinks knock on counters; playing cards slap against tables. Flies zig and zag aimlessly, just like us. We don’t toast to anything anymore, but spoons clink in our Pastis as if they want to tell us something.
The soloists moan at the counter about this, that and the other. They’re continually muted by players complaining about their rummy losses. And when the die is cast, we make our chairs hum across the floor, we uncrumple the bills, we grumble some more. Then, we forget everything and make our glasses sing some encores, and that makes the stools dance and we smack kisses on cheeks and we shuffle the cards again in a symphony orchestra that you can only hear if you’re one of these musicians, too.