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Posts: 4
Registered: ‎06-16-2007
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edit por favor

As I strolled through the front doors, a bell chiming behind me, I was slammed full-force with The White Stripes, Air Near My Fingers playing wildly through the overhead speakers.
The Record Mill, as it so happened, was the largest music store in the entire world. Every inch of wall was covered in shelves, where records were stacked and stuffed and slid into every nook and cranny available. The only exception was a block of wall space at the far end of the store, where albums were tacked together to create a sort of collage.
Other band posters were pinned to the tops of the shelf-covered walls, and still more were taped on the sides of wooden compartments, all covering the floor to make it barely visible, storing any additional records and CDs that couldn’t fit on the walls.
There were about thirty different music genres, some I hadn’t even heard of, and about a hundred band names under each. So far I had found The Clash, MC5, Pavement, and the Bee Gees, but I couldn’t decide if The Sonics were considered to be under Rock or Garage Rock.
I turned the corner, dodging a distressed-looking girl with a spike through her chin, and ran smack into the S’s under Rock. My eyes quickly found the SO’s, and I began rifling through the records: Son Volt, Sondre Lerche, Sonic Love Affair, Sonic Youth, and finally, The Sonics, Here Are the Sonics.
There was somebody beside me, most likely a salesman stocking up, crossing his arm over the exact spot where Here Are the Sonics was. I pretended to be looking at another record to my right, but I was really running low on time. Finally, I just reached under his arm, grabbing the record at the exact moment he was extending for it too.
“Hi,” I said, slipping it out from under a gigantic stack of worn records. “Do you mind if I just…”
He turned to me, and I saw it wasn’t a salesman at all. It was a guy with curly light brown hair, around my age, wearing a dark gray T-shirt and a stunned expression on his face. “Oh, I’m, I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I was gonna get that.”
I looked from him to the shelf, where there were about seven other Here Are the Sonics, and back to him again. “Well, there’s a bunch more,” I said, shifting my feet. There were ten minutes left until I had to be at work, and it took exactly ten minutes to get there. I needed to leave now.
“Right,” he mumbled, glancing acquisitively at the record in my clenched fist. He grabbed another record off the shelf, holding it out to me like a peace offering. “You want to trade?” he pleaded.
I smiled, shaking my head. This guy was really wasting my precious time. “No thanks,” I replied, slowly but surely backing away. “I’m gonna take this one.”
He came forward, stepping around me to block my escape route. “Ah,” he said. “So I see you knew it was the import. Very sneaky, very sly.”
I flipped over to the back of the record, reading the fine print. “It’s got the acoustic B side,” relayed, looking up.
The guy nodded, trying his best to look distraught. “Yes, and a bonus track. So you see my dilemma. I can’t possibly allow you to walk out of this store with the last copy.” He smiled, and I saw that he had dimples. Interesting.
“I’m not just going to walk out,” I retorted. “I’m going to pay for it first.” I tried to lunge around him, but he stopped me yet again.
“Wait, don’t I know you?” he asked.
I groaned audibly, probably a little too loud. Why was it a law that chatting with a member of the opposite sex required the male party to ‘make a move;?
“Oh geez, spare me the pick-up line,” I said, waving the record in his face. “Here.”
He shook his head, grinning yet again. “No, that wasn’t a pick-up line. I do know you.” He leaned forward slightly. “Allie’s Sweet Sixteen, Allie Hahn. I go to school with her cousin.”
As he said this, I studied his face. Allie’s birthday had been more than a year ago, but now that he mentioned it, I thought, he did look kind of familiar. What was his name…Walt? Will? Wade?
“…Wes,” I said. “Right? Wes something.”
He nodded. “That’s right, Wes Haden. And you are…” Wes looked down at his shoes for a second, then looked up and smiled, snapping his fingers. “Claire. Claire Everett.”
I laughed, shaking my head and handing the record to him again. “Here.”
Wes reached out for it, but swung his hand back at the last second. “No, I couldn’t.”
I dangled it under his chin, letting his nose linger on the musty, rock n’ roll, acoustic B-side scent. “Go on, just take it. I’ll grab another.”
Wes held his hand crossing guard style. “No, it’s yours.”
I shook my head. “Take it, really. I’d feel bad. Just take it.”
“It’s yours,” he said again. Trying to be the gentleman, I thought. Well I don’t have time for gentlemen right now.
“You know you want it,” I reasoned.
Wes paused for a second, but then he nodded, grinning. “I do want it.”
“Take it.”
I nodded, slipping it into his hand and backing away. Before I turned the corner, I whipped my head back around the shelf, and winked. “I can’t believe you just took it.”
Faintly, I could hear Wes let out a tiny sigh of astonishment, and then a chuckle as he called after me, “Thanks, Everett!”
I smiled to myself, thinking about his dimples, then nearly stopped short. Wait. What was I doing? I had a boyfriend; Logan, I had Logan. And he was great. Really great. But as I slid into my car, turning the key in the ignition, I couldn’t help but notice I had been reassuring myself a lot lately on that front. A little more than I should’ve.
Frequent Contributor
Posts: 94
Registered: ‎08-03-2007
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Re: edit por favor

It was Great, really Great!
I loved your descriptions. I saw the store. The wonderful organized disorder about it all. :smileyhappy:
I do not know why but I did not pick up on the main person being a girl. Maybe I have some deep seeded sexist thing where I don't think girls habit the reccord store. Whatever it made for an enteresting twist when what I thought was a guy noticed the other guys dimples! LOL
Anyway I LOVED it!
â It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.â Said by Mrs. Bennet in Jane Austens Pride and Prejudice