When I looked at her, I saw that behind her eyes, there was the same song playing inside her head as in mine. If my hands were tiny enough, I think I could reach through her pupils into her head and run my finger over the groove of the vinyl record slowly turning on the phonograph in there. I don’t know, are you even supposed to rummage around in someone else’s head? Like I said, I don’t know, but I sure as hell know, that she has pushed her hand through my breastbone und keeps my heart in a tight grasp. And you know what? I don’t mind; not a bit.


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