Jazz------- His trumpet was loose in his left hand as he sat in the hospital room. His right hand, he held his girlfriend’s as she slept. He looked across the room at the plastic crib that held their newborn daughter. He wanted to play right then. He was itching to play. Itching to let out a thousand blasting notes proclaiming it to all the world: he was a father.Jazz6 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
------- Well, he was trying to be. He was off to a bad start. She’d called him just as his band was coming back from a break. Through the noise of the club and the hallway to the kitchen, he’d managed to hear that she was going into labor. She was in an ambulance and she was on her way to the hospital.
----- “They’re saying it could be soon, real soon.”
----- “These things though, they can take hours, like sometimes a whole day, though right?”
----- “I don’t know,” break for a groaning scream from her, “I think you need to come down her.”
----- He finge