Guardian Jazz

A cold rain whispered on the sidewalk as the bell over the record store door gave a soft chime. Inside, warm light spilled over rows of vinyl, magazine racks, and walls covered in old jazz posters and movie stars frozen mid-dance.

She stood near the back — brown trench coat, dark green turtleneck, cat-eye glasses, lipstick like a film noir still. One hand held a vinyl sleeve, the other tucked into her coat pocket. She wasn’t browsing — she was listening, as if the covers spoke.

The jazz on the store radio cracked softly. She hummed along, off-key but confident.

She noticed me but didn’t flinch.
“You here for the music, or the mood?” she asked.
"Or just trying to stay dry." I said.
...

5 months ago | [YT] | 155