Goodnight

The song pervaded the drowsy atmosphere. Tables, deserted, slowly emptying as the hour twelve approached, their leftover cocktails and dirty plates waiting for a waiter to clean, quickly outnumbered the tables yet occupied. The end was coming, but the singer wove his tune even as the last patrons left; he sang even as the tired nightshift began to close. Goodnight, he whispered into the mic as all the lights went out.