Dog didn't say there couldn't be words.  Just not only words.  

I thought about the night we went to see his band play.  I remembered the song he told us he wrote.

I can't remember faces, or even names; but music stays with me.

I shut my eyes and really went there.  

I felt the music going through me the way it did that night.  That's what I like best about being in the same room with the music:  it’s like you can touch it and see it as well as hear it.

I thought about how Dog and the rest of the group looked while they were playing.  I thought about the light and the mostly darkness, and the scent of the drinks, and the people dancing and listening and talking.

I gathered all that up as best I could and I sent it to Dog.

"Damn," Dog said.

"Jesus," Cam said.

"Ouch," Lacy said.

I jumped. Someone was pounding furiously on the other side of Cam's wall.  It sounded like they were using a broom.

Cam's deaf neighbor.

Dog smiled in her direction.

"Throw the cards away, Lacy," he said.  "I think we've got ourselves a telepath."