A Heavy Bassline

The persistent downpour drove me deeper into the laneway behind a shuttered vinyl shop. Through the cracked basement vent, a low, muffled bassline pulsed straight through the damp brickwork. I wedged a discarded guitar pick I spotted in the gutter between two wet stones, leaning against it to feel the vibration hum through my boots. It matched the cadence of rain beating against metal. With my free hand, I loosened a fraying strip of black lace caught on an old milk crate and knotted it firmly around my wrist. Every proper anthem needs an emblem, and this corner gave me mine.