"I found someone's CD collection," I said, walking into the living room.

"Ughhhhh," said my fiancee, lying on the couch in the dark. Right — the headache.

"Are you gonna want food?" she asked. Ah, the dinner conversation: she's never hungry, I never know what I want. But tonight we had some raw chicken in the fridge that we had to use. I told her I was hungry. She said she would make fried chicken.

"Are you sure? The headache's not too bad?"

"No, it's okay — just come keep me company." I love fried chicken. My dad used to get it for us all the time as a kid. Then, for a long time, I never ate it. Now I eat it constantly. I think it's a response to stress. Like cinnamon toast. I used to eat cinnamon toast all the time as a kid, and then, after not eating it for years, I had an overwhelming need for it while studying for the bar exam. I would do a set of practice questions and then look at the answers: "So, how'd we do? ...holy underwear! Okay... cinnamon-toast break." After the bar exam, I stopped eating it again.

She started frying chicken and I started unfolding the mystery of the CD collection.

Page 1: Abba, Gold; Ace of Base; the Tribe Called Quest Anthology and a burned CD labeled "Arcade Fire EP." But under the Arcade Fire CD was the soundtrack to The Virgin Suicides. This was clearly a '90s collection, but what was Arcade Fire doing in there? I understand that people move on — we all moved on, but we got iPods. Why have Arcade Fire on CD at all?

Page 2: Some Beatles greatest-hits thing, and a reasonable assortment of Dylan — Another Side, Highway 61, Blonde on Blonde, all fundamentals. But also a copy of Before the Flood, a double CD live album recorded with the Band. Nice. Sorely lacking Bootleg Series 1-3, but not bad.

Then it got wacky: Blondie, Bjork, The Breeders, Bright Eyes, Beck, Blind Willie Johnson, Charlotte Gainsbourg, a bunch of Bowie, the Clash, Ella Fitzgerald, Mississippi Fred McDowell. Pretty impressive. And alphabetized.

"What do you think, baby?" I asked my fiancee. "Boy or girl?"

"I don't know," she said. "Put something on."

How to choose? I started flipping pages and found more blues. Do girls like blues? I love the blues, but it's pretty misogynistic. Not only are most of the singers men, but sooner or later even the nicest blues man will tell you that his woman stayed out all night so he shot her.

And there were other boy cues: Franz Ferdinand, a bunch of punk, a burned CD labeled "Johnny Cash - The Man Comes Around." That's not Taco Bell-commercial or "Joaquin Phoenix is cute!" Johnny Cash. That's late Johnny Cash, dying of cancer, quoting Bible verses and growling about the end of the world.

I was stumped. What do you make of a collection that has Muddy Waters next to No Doubt, the first Raconteurs album next to three Rilo Kiley CDs, and a mix CD with a track list in a boy's handwriting that includes the Silver Jews, Johnathan Rice, and a bunch of Dolly Parton? Whose CD collection is this? Musician? Music student?

"Just pick something, baby," my fiancee said.

"I don't know some of this stuff," I said. "Like . . . 'Paris After Dark?'"

"You don't know Paris After Dark?" she said. "Put it on!"

A minute later we were ballroom dancing in the kitchen to a post-war recording of Charles Trenet singing "La Mer." Headache: gone. Man, this is a good CD collection. I dipped her a little too close to the range and her hair almost caught fire on the gas stove. We were better dancers when we were single.

The chicken was done, and I still hadn't figured out anything about the person who owned this collection. Boy? Girl? Inherited the collection from an older brother? Shared it with a girlfriend?

Finally, I crossed the gulf of empty pages in the middle to the back of the case: the classical-music CDs and... the mix CDs. Boom.

It was soon obvious that this collection belongs to Justine. Justine studied abroad in Germany (written in sharpie on a CD: "Gluckischer Geburtstag, Justine! [Heart], Jared / 'Hildegard Knef sings Cole Porter' "). Also, Justine is (was?) either very good friends with, or dating, a girl named Ellen.

My favorite mix CD in the collection is labeled, "Happy Birthday Justine! Love, Julia & Aaron." This is either a very nice gift from two people, or the most passive-aggressive mix-CD ever: "this is a gift from both of us... because we're together now... as in dating... so stop hitting on my..." Hard to finish that without knowing if Justine is gay.

So, Justine, I have your CD collection. It's a beautiful collection, and I can't believe you would abandon it on the sidewalk. If you want it back, please email me.