Havana Garage

You don't always know when or why or how it's going to happen, but there are places where time just seems to stop. As you light your cigar, your eyes lock in on the subtle glimpse of amber in the white ash. Freeze frame on a silky, oiled wrapper. Steel brushes cymbal and the stand up bass suspends mid pizzicato. You breathe in deeply.

And again. Why does it taste so damn good? Who knows? But, you wish that time could just freeze like this, freeze like this for a moment longer. Long enough to sink into the seat of a sky blue '55 Cadillac. Windows rolled down, ocean breeze in your hair. It smells like salt water and perfume, strong coffee and chocolate flower. Like mint and rum and sugar cane. Hips swivel in time with the bass.

And you're back. She catches your eye and smiles. The room swirls and buzzes and you stand up and exhale.