Jodi -1999 --u2013 Flac- -

Leo listened to it nine times in a row.

He double-clicked it out of boredom. His good speakers breathed static for two seconds, and then the room filled with the sound of a Fender Rhodes electric piano, slightly out of tune. A girl started to sing. Her voice was young, clear, and close—as if she were sitting on the edge of his desk. She was singing a cover of a song Leo didn’t recognize, something slow and sad from the late 90s about a blue streetlight and a bus that never came. Jodi -1999 --u2013 FLAC-

I am not lost. I am right here. I am not lost. I am right here. Leo listened to it nine times in a row

He closed his laptop, walked to his piano—a dusty upright he never played—and placed his fingers on the keys. He didn’t know the song. But his hands, as if remembering something they’d never known, began to play the first chord. A girl started to sing

Leo stared at his screen. Outside, rain began to fall on Boise. He looked at the file name again. Jodi - 1999 – FLAC. Not just a recording. A beacon.

The room felt suddenly, impossibly, full.