SASHAS
asha settled into her first-class seat. The attendant who’d scanned her ticket had not commented on her belly. Thank God her behind wasn’t too fat yet that she couldn’t. Was it safe to fly? God!ess, she prayed, it had to be. She put in earbuds and pressed play on the new link Peter had uploaded to the band page.
Was he writing his own material now? Or was someone else helping him? Her nerves gave way to rage as soon as the melody started.
My love, Peter sang, his voice slow, deep, and sexy, that far away melancholy careening joined in by piano.
Ask the sky, ask the trees, ask the dust that kicks up under the wheels of this bus,
Moving down the way, ask anybody no matter where we roll. I ain’t travelin’ away from you.
A single violin keened.
Ask Johnny, ask Don, Elvis, and Jan
