Occasionally he’ll hand the device to Mindy, wanting her opinion, and each time, the experience of music pouring directly against her eardrums—hers alone—is a shock that makes her eyes well up; the privacy of it, the way it transforms her surroundings into a golden montage, as if she were looking back on this lark in Africa with Lou from some distant future.
Her father slides it out, and the golden, tangled mass of Charlie’s hair collapses onto her shoulders like a shattered window.
Sasha and Drew are a braid of elbows and shoulders and pockets,
Note: beautiful description.
“A feeling,” Bennie said, rousing himself slightly from his deep recline. “That we have some history together that hasn’t happened yet.” Alex
Note: Cool.