“Where’s the funhouse this year?”
Connor was cooking dinner, listening to Recovering the Satellites. It was 25 years old now …and it sounded as fresh as it did then.
“All the things that make up a memory”
It took him back to then.
Such a different time.
Such a different man.
“And then you’re everybody’s satellite — I wish that you were mine”
For all those memories, good and bad, Recovering the Satellites, as a whole, would always remind him of Emma.
That made the album better.
He heard her stir in the other room: “Hey! Come back to bed.”
Their agreement, and time, precluded too much more than what they did.
“It was enough,” he smiled and turned everything off.
“God we’re so fucked up, you and me”
Dinner could wait.
