I'm going to cup my hand and very furtively whisper onto my palm the name of the song that I was so embarassed to play that I had to shut all windows and check twice for the landlady's car.
But there was really no way that I could resist. The helicopter leaves were falling and something in the air reminded me of North Carolina, and I was missing my parents and thinking about the colors of our living room from 1980. When the memories hit, you need to respond quickly, or you elsewise run the risk of wasting the day listening to soft rock and sitting on the floor with the photo albums.
And there are only so many stories about red dirt and rocket slides that The Boy can stomach.
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