about & warnings: rocker au, male reader, 80s 90s ish setting, cussing, alcohol and cigarettes word count: 1900+
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there was nothing amusing about the small town. fall gloom had settled giving it a bleak dull coloring, rainy weather complimenting the dullness with wet foot prints littered on sidewalks following into the stores. if only people had the decency to actually whipe their shoes on the cheap rug, it'd make mopping more easier tonight.
looking outside the vinyl store you worked, you pondered what to do for the next few hours of your shift. to-go cup in your hand, you took a sip from the coffee. cold. left it out too long perhaps.
the rain began as you took out boxes of the new shipment to stock up, containing vast varieties of artists. some you loved and some you hated, but it didn't matter as long as someone would buy it. setting the box onto the floor, carefully pulling out each vinyl you start slipping each into the correct slot. nothing seeming to be on your mind as the task was easy, music from the speakers slipped you away from reality for a second or two. practically on autopilot as you watched yourself with your own eyes putting away each record and CD.
there was a ring of a bell, a customer, pulling you back into reality. it was a man entering, noting the shoe prints on the tiles he left, waiting for you to clean up before closing. you sighed before closing the empty box and and folding it to later dispose of, coming back to the man in the jacket stapling a flier onto the bulletin board. it was littered with many other local bands as well as community events that barely any one showed up for. it was a quiet town with nothing special about it.
the customer finishes stapling the flier before looking around the store, making his way into records and vinyls. seeming to wander without a purpose through each section.
"need any help sir?" you ask politely as you were trained.
"doubt you'll be any," he stated while rummaging. you look down at his hands then back at him, catching your state he turns to you as if to ask 'what?'
"you have no idea what your sorting through do you?" coming more off as a statement rather than a question. his reply was a glare, yet you were not wrong.
it came to a realization that you have never seen this man before. there's only so many people in this where practically everyone knew everyone. and here was a stranger who's face you never seen in reality, maybe in a dream but never walking down the street. the stranger was just some nobody passing into some odd town in the middle of nowhere.
"what are you looking for?" you ask, in return he names a group you've only heard of because of the stocked records. you motion for him to follow you as you come to the correct section. the stranger rolls his eyes in the process.
you pull back two albums of some irrelevant group before pulling and handing the record to the stranger.
eyeing down the covered record from your hand, he takes it. settling it under his arm for security while roaming curiously around the store. stopping and admiring some of the decorations, noting a particular poster.
