For two weeks Janna met him outside of his classes, walked the halls with him, asked about his dying grandmother, and helped him with his trigonometry homework. He’d hold her hand, a couple of times he even touched her pink and blonde hair and she would tell him about why she liked the color pink so much (bubblegum) He understood how every person she’d ever loved had a life span of about eight songs. Would he be any different? In the space of two weeks she’d already written seven of them, humming them when she ran circles around him in the gym as he played basketball with a group of guys. Between dribbles, he’d listen for new lyrics, an unknown song, and on days when he heard it, something inside him came a little loose. In his diary he wrote it’s like head (heart?) is releasing itself from a dock and being taken by a current into the center of a lake. How to reach it now? And the music? Rushing water.