Disclaimer: the following story is probably/most likely/is a work of fiction.
The Silver Apples have reunited. Their press release claims a “ten-year” hiatus, but later says it’s only been eight.
“It doesn’t feel that long,” thought now-lone Silver Apple Simeon Coxe, staring at the New York skyline from his bedroom window. “It doesn’t feel that long at all.”
These moments of anticipation couldn’t help but trigger a nostalgic melancholy in Coxe. Here he was, an aging would-be legend, still living in an apartment that would usually be associated with a person half his age and touring with The Moon Upstairs, a group of young musicians whose debut LP had been compared with the likes of George Harrison and Neil Young.
“I should have toured with the genuine articles when I had the chance,” thought Coxe as he took another long, slow sip of his Silver Apple (a concoction he invented himself in 1974, consisting of rum, apple juice, lime juice, and club soda over ice).
Simeon Coxe stared off into the distance for a long time. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he said out loud to no one in particular. He shuddered suddenly, as if trying to shake something off. “It’s been a hell of a ride.” The sun began to set. Coxe finished his drink.
“It’s awfully cold for this time of year,” thought Coxe:
