Page 3 of Sing for Me

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My body is aching and empty at the same time.

I boot up Spotify and I listen to the song again.

Again.

Again.

Each time, I catch more of the lyrics.

I feel better.

And worse.

Empty.

And full.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing right now. I don't know what I should be doing. The only thing I want is for school to start. Then, I'll have something meaningful to occupy my mind. I'll have some way to block out all these thoughts.

This guy, this singer, he knows exactly how this feels.

He understands me.

And I understand him.

And that's terrifying and comforting at the same time.

CHAPTER TWO

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For weeks,In Piecesis everywhere. It's on every Los Angeles station. It's all over Spotify and Pandora. It's playing in coffee shops and boutiques.

And it's there, on my computer, on repeat.

It's a powerful drug. I try to resist the hit. I let the ache in my heart build. I let that feeling that no one understands how much this hurts—that no one willeverunderstand how much this hurts—build and build until I can't take it anymore.

Then I listen.

And I fall apart.

I make a playlist. I add other songs that tug at my heartstrings. Other songs that brush up against that overwhelming ache.

But none of them hit me as deeply asIn Pieces.

None of the vocalists are singing for me.

It's onlythisguy who is singing in my ear.

It's onlyhimwho understands me.

I don't know his name.

I don't have a clue what he looks like.

But, somehow, he's the only person who can comfort me.

I know that other people deal with loss. I know my parents are hurting, Rosie's friends are hurting, a million other people are hurting right now.

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