7 Chapter 7

I keep digging, flipping the records faster. I’m on a mission now. I need that Boston album. I don’t care that I don’t own a record player, I need it. I want a reminder of that happier time in my life, even if it just sits on a shelf collecting dust. I sigh and lift my head from the bins. It’s not there.

The door chimes and I look over. A woman and a small child walk in and head to the kid’s clothing section. As I watch them pass, I notice that there is a line of three or four people at the front and Dave is just jawing away, completely oblivious.

“I can help the next person over here,” I say as I make my way to the counter. It’s another young mother wondering where the kid’s clothes are located. I point out the racks and she wanders of. The next person steps up while I’m still making sure the young mother is heading the right direction.

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