Another thing, this is autobiographical (with names, including the name of the choir, changed) up to and including where he hands Tabatha the paper napkins. It’s kind of a cool technique. Take a life event and spin it into something — in this case into magical realism.

By the way a funny thing happened. Unknown to me my wife pulled a page from my printed final edit copy of this from the recycling (I guess she saw it and was curious) and that evening she kissed me before going upstairs and said something about Tabatha. I was like, “Whaaat?” “You fantasist you!” I had not given her this one to proofread*, and she only found part of it. Awkward! But she hadn’t read the end, or the beginning for that matter, and was OK when I filled her in.

*She’s a great copy editor but sometimes I’m like, maybe not.