She heard Pulp’s Common People and was transported back thirty years.
She was thirteen and clothes were thrown around her room, nothing fitting right or looking how she wanted it to. Even her favourite navy t-shirt with the heart from Tammy Girl had looked all wrong, now abandoned on her futon. Her ill-advised attempt at the Rachel haircut had led to too-short layers with a life of their own, and over it all was a veil of CK1 perfume, soft citrus and subtle jasmine.
Laughing, she turned the radio up, and danced like she was thirteen again.
Leave a Reply