Daniel flipped through the shuffled array of songs on his iPod for the fourth time, and for the fourth time failed to find a song that appealed to his eardrums. After a long day of working hard, all he needed was a little relaxation and a little music. AC/DC: no. Dr. Dre: no. Judas Priest: definitely not.

     Tired of searching for the perfect song to fit the moment, Daniel resigned himself to fatigue, rolled over in his bed and flipped off the light switch. He could never, ever find the appropriate soundtrack to fit one of his I'm-exhausted-and-never-want-to-hear-the-word-'derivative'-ever-again moods. He could never buy the right music. He closed his eyes and decided give up all hope of finding a decent song, agreeing to drift off to whatever lame melody came next.

     Suddenly, he heard a familiar, dramatic '70s pop tune. Daniel's eyes snapped open with a wave of panic. A voice belonging to some once-beautiful woman described the ease of 'dancing and jiving and having the time of your time.'

     No, Daniel thought, not this song. He removed the iPod from his ears and chucked it against the opposite wall of his room. He'd thought he'd removed that song from his playlist, that memory from his tortured mind. With a small, repressed sob, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

     But sleep refused to come. He knew he wouldn't-No, he couldn't- have peace of mind hearing ABBA for the first time since she broke up with him, only one year and forty-eight days ago.

     He never thought about her, of course. He knew Emily was the past, and he lived his life in a way any old man could look back upon and smile. He wanted to live his life in the present in order to have a so called good past. He wanted to be in a position now to be nostalgic in general about anything in his past.

     Daniel did excellently in school, sports and on stage, and he even went out for ice cream last Thursday with some of his good and dedicated friends. Everyone thought he was amusing. Life was amusing.

     But he still couldn't forget her song and how she'd revolutionized his world. For example, she always made she he looked his best. It was what he used to love about her.

     "Daniel," he remembered her saying, "You have a huge clump of lint on your sweater." He remembered the sharp way the heels of her shoes clicked against the linoleum floor. She reached up and flicked her hand against his shoulder several times until that sly smile of satisfaction crossed her lips.

     "There," she said, linking her arm through his, "Presentable."

     He was glad she so often took the time to fix him up right. He started cleaning himself up the right way, choosing the polo over the t shirt, but, nevertheless, Emily was always able to find more improvements to make. He was glad. He liked being her improvement.

     Because of her they looked so good together, too. He remembered Emily gasping at the sight of them in a mirror once.

     "We look like Romeo and Juliette" She remarked.

     "Yeah," he replied, "Or Lizzie Bennett and Mr. Darcy. Or Hermia and Lysander."

     She looked at him inquisitively.

     "Cinderella and Prince Charming," she concluded. "I love that movie."

     They stood in silence for several moments, admiring his improvement and her brilliance.

     "Cinderella," Daniel mused, gazing at the lovely girl he adorned. He caught sight of himself for a moment: pristinely pressed tux, the shiniest shoes, the straightest tie.

     "Did they ever say his name?" he wondered aloud.

     "Hmm?" she responded, unable to tear her eyes away from their reflection.

     "The prince," he said serenely, "Did they ever say what his name was?"

     "I don't think he had one," her soft voice replied absently, tucking in a stray curl.

     "Come on," she said with a final glance towards the mirror, "We're late."

     She was a great person, taking it upon herself to look after him. Once, he thought he'd lost his iPod, and it turned out she'd decided to take it home. When she returned it, it had all new music on it. She was very generous. She also bought him a lot of clothing. Most of the time, he didn't even ask, but she was great with surprises. And one time he'd even found a set of dumbbells in his garage with a note that said, "Love, Emily" on top. He'd never met anyone more giving.

     He still had all her old music, too. He remembered their first dance, and how she said they had to wait for the right song to come on, and when it did she freaked out and demanded a dance. He smiled and complied happily. He also remembered how it had played over the Starbucks loudspeaker as he said he wanted to make things work while she glanced out the window periodically and checked her phone and barely sipped her extra hot mocha and said it wasn't going to happen.

     He hadn't talked to her since. He didn't want to hurt her or bring back painful memories for either of them.

     For the next hour or so he attempted to go back to sleep. He tried listening to his iPod again. Nothing worked. Finally, he rolled over once more and felt around on his nightstand for his phone. He could call her. You know, just to check in. Apologize. He scrolled through his contact list, past several people who had been close to them (he briefly wondered how all of his friends were doing) until he got to her name. He turned on the light and hit the call button.

     "What?" She yawned after several rings.

     "Hi."

     "It's three in the morning, Derek," She replied groggily.

     "I'm sorry."

     She yawned again. "See you tomorrow."

     "I'm sorry that I couldn't be a generous as you. I think I finally know why we broke up now. I only took... and I didn't do everything right but I want to make things work. I miss you, Emily."

     The line on the other end was silent, but he was sure she just had a lot to think about. He had just basically shocked her with his feelings, and in the middle of the night, no less.

     "Um, sorry if this scared you, again."

     No response. Maybe he'd messed things up a second time? No, he told himself, talking to her right now feels so right

     "Goodnight, Emily."

     He hung up. He had talked to her! Everything was going to be good and better. He felt so glad he'd apologized and she'd forgiven him. And she'd said she wanted to hang out tomorrow! He could listen to her song again! Feeling cleansed, he shut off the light before deciding to keep it on. It didn't really matter now anyway, he thought, and drifted off to sleep. He thought of all the new adventures they would have. Life was so amusing.