She’s in there somewhere.
Vasiliki’s eyes were red-run. She was sitting on the floor, her ears smothered by big puffy headphones that seemed to be devouring her whole head. She was staring @ the opposite wall, & yet nothing @ all.
No matter how many times she heard David Wise croon, “Spanish Jitters”… Nothing.
Mo’ forcefully, with her veins standing out, she thought, She’s in there somewhere.
Yes, the bamboo vines promised–& they ne’er lied. The whereis o’ her step-sister was hid somewhere in the wavelike waistline o’ that churning record, somewhere in the soft noise drowning the actual song, somewhere ‘tween the instruments. Somewhere.