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The Triumph of Voice

June 27, 2011

In the bar called the Pipacs the woman Doris Veesley played Western jazz. She played jazz on the piano and the people moved their heads, and they talked and drank. At the time the Pipacs was one of a few bars in Budapest that dared to play jazz, with its irregular beats and improvisation. The AVH felt the irregular jazz beats like a spider feels a twitch or a struggle, and they sent their men to sit in the bar and drink tonic waters with lime and watch.

The bartender swept several glasses to the ground and the music stopped, and the people looked around at the noise of breaking glass. But there was no need to make an operating table or a hospital bed of the bar, because the man Erdős already lay dead in the back room, clutched over on his side. They stuck their knife once into his throat and once into his heart. The AVH began taking down names and the people stared at the dead man Erdős. His hands lay cradled around his heart and the fingers touched the flowing red inkpot there. Somebody said, his finger is soaked in blood, and the AVH looked up in trepidation.

The Triumph of Voice

© Trent R. Leinenbach, Ashen Apples, 2011

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