A loose bracket on the marquee made the illuminated triangle slap against the building in the wind.
It moved with a slide, slap, thump.
Only the musicians smoking outside the Caldwell Street Pub noticed, joked about it. One day the marquee would collapse and do in two seconds what would take lung cancer years.
On the bottom of the marquee it read Open Mi, E ery Wedsday.
Open Mic had been around at the Caldwell Street Pub since the week the doors opened in the 90’s, so the sign with its omissions and misspellings wasn’t necessary at all.
And no one called it the Caldwell Street Pub anymore, they all called it The Call.
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