May 1979,you and your best friend are at a park,on the swings. There’s your walkman on the floor, playing Rumours-Fleetwood Mac, you both talk, the weather warm as its 5pm. Your friend holds her bottle of water while she speaks. “And this girl was standing on her desk in the middle of class” you snicker and nod at her, when a curly blonde boy, who looks around your age, walks up to the empty seesaw next to you, he looks up at the sky, you look at him, he looks back at you and smiles softly.