I was nineteen. He was twenty-three. It played all the time on the radio in London.
I was in love.
I pushed the shopping cart. The boy sat in the front seat. The girl sat in the back among the eggs, milk and bread. It played over the speakers.
The song made me smile. I started to sing. The boy shook his head at me, telling me to stop. The girl started to sing a song about wormans that turned into a song about her brother pooing on the potty. The boy started to sing his favorite song. I kept singing. The boy kept shaking his head at me. I turned the cart down aisle five in search of baked beans for the husband.
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do
About you now
And all the roads that lead to you were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
I don't know how
I'm still in love. Times three.