The Playlist I Don't Listen To
still in the car in the wedding suit. i kept your playlist and never play it. tonight it played itself.
the wedding ended hours ago and i'm still in the car, in my own parking lot, still in the suit. i could go up. i just haven't.
they did the thing where they call all the married couples to the floor and then thin it out by years. still together after five. ten. the last couple standing had been married longer than i've been alive, and everyone clapped, and i clapped too.
you would have leaned over and said something quiet and mean and perfect about the dj. you were always good at the wedding. i was good at the drive home, your shoes off, feet on the dash, narrating the other cars.
i kept the playlist. i don't listen to it. tonight on the way back it shuffled in on its own, one song, and i didn't skip it. i let it play to a parking lot, to nobody, to a passenger seat with a folded jacket on it.
the porch light's on upstairs. i set it on a timer so it looks like someone's home.
it works. it even works on me, for a second, every night.
Did this one stay with you?
Keep reading
More like this
Stories in the same key
Picked for the feeling they share with the one you just read.
One New Song at 2:11
the playlist we stopped sharing got one more song tonight, and the timestamps go back further than i remembered.
The Recipe Card Still Says Two
The dinner box he never canceled still ships a recipe for two. I split it onto two plates and eat off both.
The Shortcut I Never Take
Six months of a faster route sitting there in green, and I still drive past his building every single night instead.