The Turntable Groove

A vinyl record was spinning in slow, smooth circles atop the low stereo cabinet. I climbed deliberately onto the wooden crate next to it, planting my feet squarely against the edge. A loose wooden clothespin lay beside the rubber mat. Leaning my full weight against its blunt tail, I nudged it forward until its tip brushed gently against the black vinyl outer rim, producing a faint, rhythmic rasp with every rotation. The motor hummed low and steady inside the casing. I rested my bulk against the polished wood and listened to the circle turn.