Homestay

It was the sound of Madrid.

My first semester, I lived with the host family, a short red-haired Spanish woman named Mercedes and her husband, Roberto, who suffered from dementia and would occasionally make his way down from the apartment to wander the city streets at night.

The apartment was at Cuatro Caminos, two metro stops away from school or a thirty-minute walk if I couldn't make the train.

I would carry my Discman with me as I walked, careful not to let it skip.