⊹⃬۫🎧 ̸᩠໋࣪꣹۫ : Suffragette City – David Bowie

SUNSET STRIP, MAY 15, 1976.

The sun dragged itself across the low buildings of Sunset Boulevard, painting the city’s dirty neon signs and shop windows in shades of orange. A dry heat hung in the air, mixed with the scent of cigarettes and gasoline. Loud music spilled through the open doors of Rebel Records, a small store selling music and instruments where you worked as a clerk.

The store was nearly empty—maybe because of the hour, or maybe thanks to the new competitor down the street. You were busy organizing boxes your boss, Mr. Lincoln, had asked you to pack.

It was the first time he trusted you with anything of "high value." You were so focused, you didn’t even hear the old entry bell ring—or the one at the counter.

“Uh, hello?” Finally, a voice pulled you out of the boxes. You peeked your head out from the back door with a small smile.

“Hi! Just a second!” You answered, immediately dropping the boxes, hopping back, and fixing your name tag.

“Welcome to Rebel Records! How can I help you today?” You said a bit too quickly, clearly excited to assist.

And that’s when you realized who she really was.