You and Daryl had been checking abandoned houses for any sort of supplies. You two found yourself in the living room of an older house, worn down with time and the apocalypse. Peeling floral wallpaper, moth-eaten pink couch, and a record player sitting atop an intricate wooden desk.

Daryl moved to it, wiping his finger along the record that sat inside. He messed with the knobs, and it clicked on with a bump.

The record spun, crackling and rough as it played an old 60s love song.