The conductor seemed to be running late, and everyone was taking the time to get to know the people next to them. Sam wasn’t interested in all that-...she only had eyes for one boy, across the room in the bass section. Samantha, herself, was in the front row of the Sopranos, so unlike Stevie, who was seated on top. They were set up in odd circle, each row higher then the previous one, sort of like a stadium. She finally realized that he, too, was staring at a memory from the past, whether he knew. When she made it to the cafe that evening, she was late. It looked already closed, floors swooped, lights switched off, coffee machines cooling with occasional quiet crackling sounds of contracting metal. She took out her private key and started opening the doors, but she dropped it, slowly realising that she is actually quite drunk, and being blissfully happy about it. Sure, the boys weren't there, but she was never the one to change her mind. She shouldered the glass door and stumbled over to. More

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