Nighttime Rehearsal

That yellow toy sousaphone was light enough to carry, but its plastic valves needed testing under proper conditions. After dinner cleared out, I climbed up the wicker side of the round coffee table to find a steady perch. I set down an overturned ceramic coaster as an improvised music stand and propped an old postage stamp against it. Slipping the horn's loop across my torso, I pressed each molded valve down with deliberate precision, blowing short, staccato rhythm pulses into the quiet room. Crisp, clean, and not a single rattle. The house stayed still, but the march was officially on. -chel