-flac-- — -psy Gangnam Style

Joon-ho looked from her dead eyes to the FLAC file, still glowing on the screen. A perfect, pristine copy of a feeling he could no longer reach. He closed the laptop.

The download was instant. For the first time in fifteen years, he wasn't listening to the compressed, tinny ghosts of a memory. He was listening to the master . The brass stabs had bite . The bass didn't just thump; it sank into his chest. He heard PSY’s actual inhale before the "Hey, sexy lady!" -PSY Gangnam Style -FLAC--

"Turn that off," she said. "You’re embarrassing me." Joon-ho looked from her dead eyes to the

"It's not retro," he whispered, adjusting his $400 headphones. "It's truth ." he wasn't listening to the compressed