Brian kept coming back to the cassette. He turned it over carefully in his hands. The plastic bag around it had protected it better than everything else in the box. The label was blurred, but the words For Jamie were still readable. He did not own anything that could play it. So he called Nate. Nate was the kind of person who never threw old electronics away.
If something had buttons, wires, or a tape slot, he probably had two of them in a drawer somewhere. He answered on the third ring. “Please tell me you still have a cassette player,” Brian said. There was a pause. “That’s a weird way to start a call.” “Do you?”