Flipping Sleeves

I walked under the shop awning to get out of the drizzle and slipped inside the warm record store. Toward the back, wooden bins were packed with rows of vintage vinyl albums. I hopped up onto an upside-down milk crate to reach the dollar bin. Using both palms, I pushed forward against a stiff cardboard jacket. It snapped past the plastic divider with a low, breezy thump. One by one, I thumbed through the sleeves, letting each glossy cardboard edge brush past the next. The dry, rhythmic shuffling filled the quiet aisle, perfectly keeping pace with the muted street outside.