#53
We were sitting in Jenny’s bedroom listening to tango music.
Her: why does the accordion always remind me of France?
Me: this is from Argentina.
Her: yeah
The sun shown orange through the drapes. We were laying on our backs on the floor, I had my feet in the air.
Me: it’s like in the same song I can feel melancholy and happiness.
Her: it’s the accordion.
I fell asleep and woke up with marks from the rug on my cheek. Her mom came in with pizza bites on a tray for a snack.
Jenny: you can spend the night if you want.