The wheel on the record player goes round and round, music echoing from every corner of the room, a faint static in the background.
Eight songs and two sides seems like it will never end as I watch the motionless pin, glide to every note and tune.
The volume dial is turned to max to hear from another end of the house, the rasp of Dean Martin and the deep baritone of the King stand out above it all. There’s nothing on earth to compare.
I see music notes in my eyes and hear the same thumping in my heart as the vinyl slowly comes to a stop. In the silence, you can hear the calls of the artists, begging for their own encore.
Just to see that record spin, one last time.
