“Count it in,” the drummer said, twirling a stick.

“We’re not playing,” the bass player said. “We’re waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the singer. For the van. For history to calm down.”

The drummer tapped the rim. “History doesn’t calm down. It switches tempos.”

“Do you think war ever ends?” the bass player asked.

The drummer shrugged. “Ends like a song? With a clean stop? No. It fades. Then someone brings it back in.”

“That’s not ending.”

“It’s music.”

The bass player leaned the instrument against his leg. “I mean it. Do you think there’s a last war? A final one where everyone says, ‘All right, that’s enough’?”

The drummer smiled. “You ever seen a band agree on dynamics?”