Or…(a flashback to high school)

Flashback: piss poor speakers blaring Lil Wayne in our small town. I, embarrassed, ask you to turn it down. You, headstrong, ignore me.

We are unhappy. We are not meant to be in this car, listening to this song, in this town. We are not meant to be together at all.

And yet that moment, a moment that I have lived so many times, on so many days, is something I remember best about you (or us). Our differences so fucking clear–but we were too comfortable (or too afraid of change).

So I listened to that fucking Lil Wayne song so many times that my tongue recognized the lyrics, my feet the tempo–until I understood that I never should have been listening in the first place.