The melody of Dizzy Gillespie's signature trumpet came from beyond the partially closed double doors as I came to a stop, and memories of his office in Ontario filled my mind. There was something about entering that accelerated my heartbeat, its pounding threatening to drown out the tune. No. I wasn't overthinking this. I was simply getting my laptop.
Pushing one of the tall doors inward, I stepped inside Sterling's personal space. Similar to the rest of his apartment, the first thing to catch my attention were the floor-to-ceiling windows filling one wall. Despite the fact that it was after seven at night, the cobalt blue summer sky still shone. I stepped closer. It was the same view as from one side of his bedroom. Turning, I took in the room.
Sterling definitely had a thing for light
