"Everything, everything will be just fine," she shouted over the guitars.
The windows of Leo’s beat-up 2004 sedan were rolled down so far they’d practically disappeared into the doors. In the passenger seat, Maya was digging through a spindle of scratched CDs until she found it: a Sharpie-labeled disc titled summer_rock_mix_best_summer_rock_songs_2000s
Maya leaned back, the wind still whipping her hair. "Obviously." "Everything, everything will be just fine," she shouted