The music is a playlist that I collected from a restaurant as we dined.

A playlist, rather than a soundtrack or a recording, its sequence reproduced for dinner there each evening. Rambling on, it persists all night, dispassionately garnishing the room from open until close. It is dribble, but it has moments of familiar tracks, and it provided some kind of placement for us as we ate and talked. The playlist lives here in perpetuity for the nights of our wait and kitchen staff, who I imagine have internalized its ebbs and flows, however consciously or unconsciously. A beat to live by, pressed against the walls of the restaurant, as the staff eyes the exit.