He popped it into the ancient portable player. A crackle, then the opening piano of "Angels." His dad used to blast this on long drives, singing the swear-word-free versions so Leo could join in. "No shouting at the traffic lights," he’d say, "just singing."
Leo held up the cracked CD case. "Better. I found the original."
Leo carried the player inside. His dad was staring at the garden. Leo pressed play.
"Found my zip drive of hits, then?" his dad whispered.
