A Gentle Needle Drop

I climbed atop the smooth walnut cabinet where an old turntable rested quietly under the warm afternoon light. Right on the edge of the felt slipmat lay an empty, glossy black vinyl record. Gathering the delicate lace hem of my red gown to keep from brushing against the metal platter rim, I stepped alongside the tonearm. With both hands clasped around the tiny brushed-aluminum lever, I nudged the cueing latch gently downward. The slender arm descended with a soft, satisfying click, and the smooth black disc mirrored my vibrant curls as it caught the sun.