It's short, but my second post for this story today. Actually, as I said before, horrible writer's block. I hope you like it!
"Time for me to get back to work," Roger said, scooping up the last of the noodles and chewing them thoughtfully.
Joanne seemed shocked. "Roger Davis actually has a job! What is it?"
"Well, you should know," Roger responded, "Seeing as you interrupted me from it."
"Roger," Joanne said, "Playing your guitar for money isn't a job. I, for one, WILL find a job. Where are you living?"
"I've got a little apartment up on Cohen Street."
"Interesting street name."
"Yeah."
"Well Roger," Joanne said, gathering up her belongings, "I'm going to go find myself a real job. Can I meet you back at your job later? Maybe around sixish?"
"Sounds good," Roger answered, "Hey Joanne?"
"Yes?"
"Would you mind living with me? I mean, it's kinda lonely. I miss the fellas back home. Please?"
Joanne smiled gently. "Of course. I know how you feel. See you at six."
They paid the bill and went their separate ways.
Roger felt as though a little bit of weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was glad Joanne was there. Roger set up and tuned his guitar. Once again, he began playing Musetta's Waltz, but somehow, this time, he wasn't so sad about it.