“JEW,” he said. “Do you know them?”

This time I am on my own.

I remember hesitating before answering, obviously feeling naive and ignorant. In his dorm room, he played them in the CD player, speakers facing us. Days after, I listened to them on repeat, allowing me to believe that they understood me. They through my headphones could mourn and lament with me as I walked rejected back to my apartment 2 miles away.

Today, I remembered that moment because of Spotify.

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