This is a revised version of the story originally published in The Bohemian:
She had recognized her music playing on the radio after hearing a few measures of it. The Blue Danube it was, unmistakably. Not everyone could, she thought, recognize this piece from its introductory notes. They always stood there on the dance floor, the men wondering how to start, when to catch the downbeat; the women patiently waiting, and hoping nobody noticed. Mrs. Brown knew her Strauss and marked the tempo by tapping her fingers on the counter of the pharmacy.
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