The Needle Drop

I climbed up the walnut leg to reach the flat deck of the record player. The heavy rubber platter was motionless, but a stray brass collar stay lay caught across the grooved rim, throwing the disc out of alignment. I set my miniature guitar down beside the silver tonearm. Bracing against the textured metal counterweight, I lifted the sliver of brass and slid it clear onto the polished mahogany deck. The black disc settled level into its cradle. The turntable went quiet, balanced and waiting in the evening shadows.