
It sat at the front of the store. On. Or next to the counter.
The box contained compact discs. Some seven inches.
Dischord. Simple Machines. Mostly. Maybe a Teen Beat.
The box opened doors.
Take a chance. Make a purchase. At worst. Sell it back. At best. Something special.
Success rate. Fifty percent.
For every Nation of Ulysses. A High Back Chairs. For every Gray Matter. A Holy Rollers. For every Lungfish. A Severin.
She would offer to make special orders. Specific orders. Always declined. Preferring to be surprised. Every couple of weeks.
Tsunami - Deep End. AKA. Used.
No comments:
Post a Comment