Sometimes he'll turn up a CD she left by accident in his car, and he will miss her...

[AlienGirl]

The songs she loved carry some essence of her. They sound like the sly sideways smile she'd give him when he almost understood her but not quite; they sound like the smell of her hair on their pillow; they sound like her rustling in the early morning when she couldn't sleep and he could.

Now she's somewhere else, tuning into other music, and he can't sing along because he has no words left. Sometimes, late, when only he is awake, he holds the pillow and tries to remember well enough to make it all real again.

Tucker