“You love this song, don’t you?” I ask as Real Wild Child plays from my iPod dock. “Reminds me of home.” “They play this a lot?” I ask. She turns and grins at me, that secretive grin she uses so often. “The town pretends they don’t love us until we’ve been too quiet. They play this to call us out.” Makes no fucking sense whatsoever, and she damn well knows it.
