there was something oddly comforting about places that still encouraged people to slow down. electric rhythm hadn't changed much since alessia was a teenager spending summers in cider point, ducking inside to escape the afternoon heat while her mother wandered neighboring shops. the walls were still lined with records she'd once pretended to know everything about, the turntable behind the counter still filling the room with music that somehow made silence feel less empty. she traced absentminded fingers along a row of worn vinyl sleeves before pulling one free, tilting it toward the light. whether she actually intended to buy it was another question entirely, she had always been better at collecting moments than possessions. a familiar melody drifted through the speakers, earning the faintest smile as she glanced toward the employee. "you know," she mused, turning the record over in her hands, "every town has one place that somehow survives every trend, every renovation, every attempt to modernize it." her gaze wandered around the shop before settling on whoever happened to be nearby. “i think this is ours.” she paused for a beat, studying the album in her hands. "now tell me..." she held it up with an amused tilt of her head. "am i about to discover a masterpiece i've somehow overlooked, or are we all just romantically attached to vinyl because it makes us feel more interesting than we actually are?"
