[...] The snow would be piling up outside, we could see through the screened-in porch out back. His sister glued to her TV upstairs. [...] I pressed the record button. Our voices, tinny, seeped out into the room through his headphones and I breathed very shallow so as not to make extraneous noise. I sat there and listened to BJ play the solo, brassy and languid, and he nailed it in the first take. He picked the last harmonic, let it sing out and decay, then nodded at me. I stopped the tape.

Where is it now?