Patterns in the Grooves

I edged beneath the record console... letting the deep shadow swallow my shape. Beside a stack of cardboard jackets rested a heavy black disc inside a clear plastic sleeve. Concentric rings... hundreds of them, tightly packed and spinning silent reflections in the half-light. I stiffened, listening to the ceiling above. Silence. Very slowly, I extended one claw toward the exposed vinyl edge. My claw tip dropped into the outermost micro-groove with a faint, dry tick. I guided my claw inwards across the repeating spiral, feeling each ridge click under my nail until it settled into the smooth center circle.