The bartender can't be more than 25. She wasn't even alive to see the 90s, you hear your internal monologue say, as she plays Imogen Heap and you realize it's like you playing 70s music in your youth and dipping into history.
But you remember hearing this song on the alternative radio stations before you were barely a teen, feeling like you'd unlocked secrets of the world beyond, like you knew a darkness now that you couldn't have known if you were just a child. You remember a temporary home, at the end of a long corridor, and how sparse your existence that you never questioned. It occurs to you (again! again!) that everyone lives an entire life like this, with details piled upon details, years and decades of their own experiences. Does everyone think so much about the things they've seen?
It doesn't matter.
You can only play the cards you were dealt.
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