Erika sighed and purged yet another box. She and Tyler were moving for only the second time in twenty-five years of marriage, and they had far too much stuff. Her finger caught in something that felt like a plastic finger trap, and lifting her hand, she giggled. Tyler had given her the mixtape the weekend they’d stolen away to the mountains before they were married. A devious grin formed on her lips; they’d spent more time inside the cabin enjoying each other instead of outside enjoying nature. Though the tech was obsolete, the soundtrack of their love would endure forever.
The Soundtrack of Love