Look, a new writer-game.

Similar to the seven dream jeopardy categories, or 'how do your characters like their eggs'?

What's on your iPod?

Or rather, if your characters had MP3 players, what would the first ten tracks be, if they were put on shuffle?

( Part one lurks within. )

Bad Pennies Always Turn Up

Anneka is the mistress of denial, and she's occasionally about as deep as a teacup ... at least on the surface, anyway. But occasionally twinges of regret get through the wall, whether she likes it or not. (Which she doesn't.)
( On the train from Paris to Amsterdam ... )

Sunday afternoon (drabblemania topic: crushed flowers)

"Where are we going?" Allanna asked curiously, holding tightly to Jack's hand and fidgeting slightly with the band over her eyes.

"You'll see." he chuckled mysteriously, leading her carefully around the curved path.

"Something smells beautiful." she mused. "Can I take off the blindfold now?"

"Not just yet." Jack gently set one hand on the top of the retaining halfwall and stood behind her for a moment, coming around to stand behind her and peering over her shoulder. He nodded in satisfaction.

Perfect.

"Now," he murmured in her ear, moving aside a black curl, "you can take off the blindfold." He carefully untied the silk scarf from her face.
( Fiendish, I know. But I don't want to spoil the surprise. )