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[h2]The Day Before the Concert[/h2]
[h3]6:47 PM[/h3]
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	Jason Blackwood entered the lounge. The deep blues of the curtains, walls and booths, as well as the dark wood tones and low lighting always enveloped him in comfort anytime he entered the space. He nodded to the owner with a tired smile. She had turned her own quiet smile from the pianist who was performing on the small stage as Jason entered.

	After acknowledging the kind widow, he made his way to the back and up the small private stairwell. Part of his payment as an employee of the jazz club was that he got to use the small loft above the lounge. A place to stay and his bills paid. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the time being.

	Now in his spartan flat, he kicked off his shoes, set his backpack on the small folding card table, threw his coat on the twin bed, and himself alongside it. After a moment, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a small amount of light, enough to see by, leaking in from his curtains. The moon was bright and fairly large tonight—a waxing gibbous.

	Jason sighed and closed his eyes. He needed a break from this monotony. Sure, he was doing what he himself had chosen to do. But this daily grind between his work and moonlighting as a bartender… He was hoping that moving to Paris would be greater than just allow him better access to primary sources. He was hoping for… [i]more.[/i] He longed to really [i]feel[/i] something again. It was almost like… once she went missing, so did most of himself.

	He opened his eyes again and forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He dug into his pocket to retrieve his mobile phone. He flipped it open and got to work setting an alarm. It was part of his daily ritual to rest between shifts. He didn’t always sleep, but a nap of any kind was helpful. And not having to keep an eye on the clock made sure he got the best rest he could. He laid himself properly on the bed this time, with his head on his pillow. Then, closed his eyes and focused solely on the music that emanated up from below him, allowing it to lull him into a calmer headspace.

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	The steady, haunting strumming of [i]Stories[/i] by [i]Trapt[/i] began playing through the tinny speaker on his phone on the pillow beside him, jarring Jason from the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep. He quickly grabbed the phone and shut off the alarm. Rubbing his face, he wished he could have napped for longer. The just over an hour he just got was nice, but his body didn’t want to move just yet. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have this bed and room to sleep in at all if he didn’t get his ass downstairs in fifteen minutes.

	Jason stripped and rinsed himself with soap and water in the small shower, brushed his teeth, and made sure his hair wasn’t too unkempt. He should probably cut it, soon. He quickly donned a black t-shirt, black slacks, and a black leather belt. Next he buttoned up his midnight blue dress shirt except for the top two buttons. He then tucked it in, and neatly rolled the sleeves just past his elbows. With a quick check in the mirror to make sure he was presentable, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before making his way down to the lounge.

	Once he stood behind the bar, he relieved the owner of her post. Sylvie thanked him warmly in the local tongue and gracefully made her way to her personal couch to enjoy the music for the rest of the night; until she got tired, anyway. There was no one presently sitting at the bar just now, so he acquainted himself with the current stock of wines, spirits, ingredients, and accoutrements; making sure he was ready for whatever the night would throw at him.