1. Cold Feet and Coldplay.
It’d be impossible for Coldplay to not be associated with those frosted Windows. She wasn’t the kid who cried at the bus stop because he had just moved from Texas, she was steelier than that. If a single person saw her break, she knew she’d retreat from the rest of them. Weakness was admittance, at age fourteen she knew that. So she stood on the corner, pulling her body toward itself as far as she could, in the coat with stars stitched to the inside. Her iPod was nearly molded to her hand by the end of that winter, still puffed with youth and just trying to stay warm.
That iPod churned out the same songs for 9 straight months, as she nursed a sore neck from staring out the windows of that bus, the incessant creaking of which sounded like a dying daily protest. The drums and riffs guided her as she worked on bringing her eyes up and stopping the shaking in her voice, smiling at the right times and saying the right things. And though the songs faded out of her playlists throughout the years, she always remembered the words. So much so that seven years later she bought two tickets from a German website, one for a plane and one for a floor seat, so that she could see and hear and feel the music, and maybe defrost those windows once and for all.
But when it came time to get on the plane, alone, it turned out that cold feet and Coldplay don’t always go together. She arrived back home, thousands of miles away from where she felt she should have been, and cried in the backseat of her mom’s car. And seven years later, she was surprised to notice that the tears stung just the same.