On a recent March morning at the end of a week away, my wife and I walked from our rented room to our rented car to drive in search of breakfast. As I started the engine, a familiar song came through the radio: "The Middle," by Jimmy Eat World.
We rode through rural Pennsylvania in an undercaffeinated nostalgic reverie, enjoying the emo-adjacent power po…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Number One With A Bullard to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.