“Can’t we change the song?” Pippa begs from the passenger seat of my truck. “This music isn’t getting me in the mood. Right, Mare?” She turns in her seat to look at Mare in the backseat. Mare looks out the window, clearly lost in her thoughts and not as worried about getting in the mood to party like my sister. “I like the song,” she answers, shrugging. Of course she does. It’s a song we used to listen to all the time. I still use the same CDs she burnt for me when we were teenagers.
