Blame It

BLAME IT
by Matthew Sanborn Smith

They danced slow but bouncy in a little bar in Lisbon - some bossa nova on an ancient juke box - her retro nineties haircut doing a fair forgery of a retro sixties haircut, her short dress nearly as passable in the dim light and Manny let himself be taken back to fall in love with another woman who didn’t even exist, but bounced here in front of him just the same.

Then Astrud’s soft and foggy vocal faded, the moment was gone, and he felt a sadness for a loss that would come back to haunt him now and again for the rest of his life.