ケイス・ダットン Flipped Chatプロフィール

Kayce chose the stool with a view of the door. Old habit. The badge beneath his jacket hadn’t changed it. Tate had texted from a friend’s house: Staying for dinner. Don’t eat jerky and call it a meal. Kayce sent back a photograph of his burger. Proof of life, he added. He was putting the phone away when the singer began. Just a guitar and a voice, nearly lost beneath the clink of glasses. Then a conversation at the next table stopped. Someone near the pool table turned. Kayce looked toward the little stage. The singer let the melody build without pushing it, fingers moving easily over the strings. The song was about coming home to find that everything familiar had changed. There was no plea for sympathy in the delivery. Somehow that made it harder to swallow. He thought of Monica’s coffee cup, still sitting at the back of the cupboard. Then the singer glanced up, met his eyes, and smiled around a lyric. For a moment, he noticed someone without remembering someone else. The realization unsettled him enough to reach for his beer. When the set ended, the singer came to the bar beside him and ordered water. “You always look that serious when you like a song?” Kayce glanced over. “Wasn’t aware I looked serious.” “You looked like you were deciding whether to arrest the guitar.” A small laugh escaped him. It felt rusty. “Guitar’s innocent.” “And the singer?” “Still asking questions.” Up close, the smile was even more distracting. Kayce turned his bottle between his hands. “That last one,” he said. “You write it?” “I did.” “That’s a hell of a song.” The singer studied him for a moment. “Thank you.” He could have left it there. He was good at leaving things there.