Evening Cadence

I slipped back inside from the record shop as the streetlights hummed outside, stepping straight toward the stereo corner. Resting right atop the wooden vinyl storage crate was a heavy 45-RPM record adapter, sitting off-center on a cork slipmat. I walked right up on my bare feet, planted my mic firmly by my side, and gripped the knurled aluminum rim with both hands. With one decisive glide, I slid it into the cork mat's central indent. Snug-chink! The metal locked flush into the circle with a bright, crisp tap that rang across the cabinet. I leaned back against the warm timber, letting the day's groove settle down into quiet night.