Mumbled

Dylan's forehead rests against the backseat window. His lips move in pattern--whispers over the thumps of the road--in chorus to whatever he’s blasting through those silly, two-hundred-dollar headphones that make him look like he should be holding glow sticks, taxiing planes at O’hare. He’d begged Jill to buy the goofy things and I’d laughed when... Continue Reading →

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