You are nine years old, and Susan the babysitter is sitting in the hallway on top of the heating vent. It's a cold night in Indiana. And she's telling a story. Her eyes are wide, and she's wearing purple lace fingerless gloves. You and your siblings are gathered around her like she's the shaman of the village, sharing an ancient legend.
"I mean. He was just amazing." She breathes. "It's hard to describe." She raises a purple-laced hand to wipe tears from her eyes, smudging some purple eyeliner. "The concert was just...unbelievable."
... Read more