someone like you

I settled myself in the seat.

“No, you’re number isn’t on the ad.”  My mother told the woman as my own mind drifted to realities.  Greeks like to tell each other something, meanwhile the response is always: denial.

“What?  Of course it’s on the ad.  How else will clients call and…”  The woman paused, my mother insisted – this continued for a whole.  “Just a second, I’ll check.”

My coat was off, my bag on the side – I checked my phone though it didn’t matter since had no service here.  Since I set my foot on an airplane in late July, it’s been on airplane mode.  My number’s current disconnected.  My iPhone only works on wireless.  I find it intriguing how old my Greek phone is in comparison.  All it can really do is call and text.  Sometimes, I’m surprised how much I’m on a phone that can’t even call at the moment.

That’s when the familiar melody began.  I stopped my movements and looked at the back of a computer screen, the music playing.  I had to focus, trying to remember the very known song.  Eventually, when the song hint my memory, I felt an odd wave of nostalgia reminisce inside me.

My college days, my driving adventures, my afternoons spent singing along to the song, on repeat (of course).

It honestly feels like years since I heard this specific song.

Not to mention, it causes more sappiness now than it ever did before.

I’ve always have found Adele’s Someone Like You so hauntingly beautiful.

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