“You used to laugh all the time,” Leo said over the loud mariachi music as he scooped up some guacamole on a tortilla chip and put it in his mouth.
Rather than answer, Brett shrugged and studied the members of the mariachi band. They were dressed in silver-studded charro outfits with wide-brimmed sombreros and seemed to be enjoying themselves. The harmonies they were singing sounded effortless and beautiful; the finger work on their string instruments was exceptional. Brett didn’t comprehend the Spanish lyrics, he just allowed himself to go with the feelings. It was sublime.
Brett applauded with the rest of the patrons when the band finished their current song.
The band took their bows and left the small impromptu-looking stage area that was crammed into a corner of the busy restauran
