Form the introduction:
It’s the middle of September, which means the party’s coming up. Nobody needs any more details than that; they can hear the bold type when you say it.
Everybody’s there, because the girl who’s hosting knows everyone. She drops names like carpet bombs. She knows you. And she knew your love.
You met your love at the party two years ago. It was funny as often as it was brilliant. By the end of the night, you felt like you were going to know them forever.
You broke up at last year’s party. It was awkward as often as it was horrible. You wonder if you knew them at all.
Now you’re here again. You wonder if you’ll see your love. You haven’t yet. But, as the clicks and hums and sirens pumping from the sound system in the ridiculously huge garden flow through your body, you see them everywhere.
There’s where you met. There’s where you lay underneath them with your fingers in the dirt. There’s where your stomach dropped and you felt worse than when S Club 7 broke up, because you knew that was it.
The DJ won’t leave the tracks she’s playing alone. She keeps remixing them as she goes. Technology overtaking music. Sometimes, you wish you could remix your life.