Cocktails

I’m in the kitchen, muddling lemon and cucumber slices in cocktail glasses. I measure out the shots of Pimms and pour them in.

From the dining room a record starts to play and Travis walks into the kitchen. I know the record is from his grandparents and the music sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

"What’s this?" I ask him.

"Appropriate," he answers.

Glenn Miller sounds like cocktails.