The Dream of Evan and Chan

Oh God, another first date.
"Hi, I'm Evan. Nice to meet you."
At least she's cute; she smiles as she introduces herself.
"I'm Chan."

We went to this place downtown, before smoke was outlawed in bars. It was karaoke night. We both had a bit too much to drink.
Eventually the bass turned to static, a soft fuzz that dulled the senses into cotton. At least the singing got better.
It was familiar to me, the smoke too thick to breathe. The smoke too thick to breathe.
Ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing. She won't stop calling, texting, annoying. I can't, I can't get her out...
The drum kicked and snapped, snared my attention. Caught my feet in beats, I followed them and grinned sheepishly as I flailed my hands in a rhythm somewhat resembling the music.
You're up, and when you started to sing you broke with broken speech

Oh God, a second date!
It was perfect.
Until the telephone started ringing ringing ringing ringing ringing on.