The replies he received were lovely, all the dots and dashes transcribed into feminine phrases he never thought would come from such a machine. And he would reply with flirtatious messages of his own asking her name and hair color and where she liked to go for drinks after a long day of transcribing and sending those telegraphs. They were elegant, yes elegant that was the word she always chose the one she’d used on their first date, “peach schnapps is such an elegant drink” she said and giggled and ran a hand through her hair, that golden hair that seemed to perpetually be floating underwater, she was a lush mermaid. Elegant was that first quirk that George loved, the first unusual thing that makes a person fall for another, something that sets her apart from the other girls he had known before and she would say it in a way that exposed her entire mouth and she drain her glass and always, always, always, set it down and order another then bring her fingers to her lips and ask for a dance, George recalled. He would fish in his pockets for loose change jangling and he would scoop and extend his arm towards that radiant girl and she would rush to the wooden jukebox sheltered in the corner of the Blind Tiger. She would take up a disc between her thumb and forefinger and press it into the slot laying in wait and she’d wait to hear the thunk of the metal contraption capturing its prize. The flip of the album covers was her favorite part and she’d press the little white button for up selection and down selection over and over and when she found a suitable tune she’d raise her fists towards the ceiling in celebration, as if she had finally found the one thing in her life that had ever held meaning. He remembered how the music would flow out of the wooden jukebox, how her hips would sway in that blue and white dress, turning and running to his arms and letting his hand slide down to her left hip and they’d spin along with that record, round and round. And then there was that time the record skipped and repeated the snippet of melody throwing the same 18 notes into the air and she threw back her head and laughed, and insisted that he kept spinning her until the next section came and how that was the first time he had let himself enjoy dancing. But now George’s palms laid heavily on her casket, leaning down and kissing the area he approximated her forehead to be, and his right hand curled up into a small ball, he found himself knocking on the heavy lid.