and Mychal was wearing a silver-gray suit that was slightly too big for him.
I had on a long-sleeve T-shirt, jeans, and a coat. “I didn’t know I was supposed to dress up for the sewer,” I said sheepishly.
“The art sewer.” Daisy smiled. I wondered whether maybe I should change, but she just grabbed me and said,
“Holmesy, you look radiant. You look like... like yourself.”
I sat in one of the backseats in Mychal’s minivan, and as he drove south on Michigan Road,
Daisy started playing one of our favorite songs, “You’re the One.”
Mychal was laughing as Daisy and I screamed the lyrics to each other.
She sang lead, and I belted out the background voice that just repeated,
“You’re everything everything everything,” and I felt like I was.
You’re both the fire and the water that extinguishes it. You’re the narrator, the protagonist, and the sidekick.
You’re the storyteller and the story told. You are somebody’s something, but you are also your you.
As Daisy switched the song to a romantic ballad that she and Mychal were singing,
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