Clara found herself back at the dinner table. Howard looked up at Miss Clara, and his eyes beamed with longing ’cause Miss Clara knew how to incite the blues. Howard fell back and shot a gaze that pierced Miss Clara to her heart. Right then, she realized that what she’d been feeling all evening was the cold, hard truth, ’cause his eyes fluttered, holding enough softness and water to convey, “I still got the blues for you, Clara.” And when she heard him sigh, Miss Clara grasped the rest ’cause his body shifted with unease in his seat. That sigh wrapped around her heart. She heard a piece of the blues untangling at the end of his breath as he cleared his throat. She heard what she had always suspected: