He slips her a CD. “Shhh, don’t tell anyone. This is me.”
She gets into her car and slips the burned CD from its cover, the word “Secrets” scrawled across its shimmery face in indelible marker. Breathing slowly, she wonders whether this is the point of no return. If she listens, she will acknowledge to herself what she’s been denying for months. She loves him. And he loves her.
She puts the CD into the player and turns up the volume. She pulls out of the parking lot. He is already halfway up the street. As she drives towards home, she hears it all; the things he’s been trying to tell her, trying to tell himself. Streams of Neutral Milk Hotel and Devandra Banhaf and Belle & Sebastian and a little Bonnie Tyler thrown in just to make it interesting. She laughs. She cries. She knows there is no going back now. The line has been crossed. The wheels of fate are turning.
Talulah Gosh plays on random on her Itunes. It is five years later. He, along with his secrets, are gone. She thinks of him and smiles.