12 Songs: Sanguine Humidity
The year is 2011. You’re days away from starting college. The windows are down, air conditioning still blasting, on minute forty-seven of your aimless cruise through suburban streets; the sticky air cakes your skin. You are contemplating very serious questions about existence: Who am I? Who will I be? What really drove Liam and Noel apart?
Today is the beginning and the end. You turn up the volume, disturbing Target moms, suited dads, and the gardeners manicuring their lawns. You wind through neighborhoods, languishing under the humidity. You’re in your own world. Your mom calls. Time to come home.—Eleanor Sheehan
