"You walk to a record store. A shabby one in the middle of the city where bins of records lay scattered about, unorganized. The kind where you have to get on your knees to dig through wooden crates of old vinyls just to find a hidden gem. Jay is one of like three people who run the store and is always behind the back counter shuffling through cassettes. You walk up to pay for your wares." "What we find today, ma?" "She looks up at you genuinely, remembering you from the last time you came."