Something about boys with English accents and their pep.
I stepped outside for a run last night, feeling sluggish, and hit play on the shuffle.
I ran fast and steady for the next 45 minutes.
Jake is a playlist genius. Every song sat up straight in my brain. He somehow finds music that hits every bit of space. Even the sounds of each word beat on the pavement. There’s something magical about wind in the darkness, tennis shoes, and the right music drowning your eardrums.
Maybe he could get paid for doing that. A Professional Playlister.
(It sounds a little naughty, doesn’t it.)