My sister bought a new house in the middle of a big city. It was a crowded and expensive neighborhood. The streets were a little narrow. The house was three storeys tall with French windows and surrounded by similar looking houses, some even bigger. Each had signs outside like, "C. Bankcroft, Published Author" or "J. Matthews, Poet Awardee" and so on. I think hers said "--, Author." But it wasn't her real name. 

It was a bright, pleasant day and a nearby private school had just let the students out so the street was full of Catholic school girls walking home or waiting for their rides. And my car wasn't where I thought I left it. 

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I was in the lobby of an old building. It had a comicbook shop, a record store, a bowling alley (I think) but they were mostly empty. I think it was early morning, maybe 7 or 8. There was a large bulletin board against one post. I couldn't decipher what the words meant at first. Then I figured it was a schedule of bands playing in the bar. So I went to the bar which was also empty except for the band on the stage. They were playing but there was no sound. The bar girl was quite happy to see me. She was very friendly. She asked to see my ID and I got a glass of beer. I wondered where the band's friends were, if they had any, and why they weren't there to see them play.