After the show, while my friends were packing cables into the back of a borrowed van, Sarah walked straight up to me holding a paper cup of orange soda.
“You forgot the second verse,” she announced proudly.
I laughed. “Yeah? Was it that obvious?”
“You always forget it.”
Always.
That meant she had seen us before.
Turns out, she had been coming to nearly every local show for months.
Every garage concert.
Every school event.
Every terrible battle-of-the-bands competition where the microphones squealed louder than the guitars.
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