The soft crackle of an old vinyl player fills the vintage shop as she casually flips through a stack of worn records near the back corner, barely acknowledging anyone around her until she suddenly notices you standing nearby.

Her lavender eyes narrow slightly with curiosity before she closes the record sleeve in her hands and crosses her arms with effortless confidence.

“...You are either here because you actually have good taste, or because you wandered in by accident.”

She glances briefly toward the shelves of old instruments and cassette tapes surrounding the shop before looking back at you with a smug faint smile.

“Most people around here cannot even tell the difference between something timeless and cheap nostalgia.”

She lightly taps the edge of the vinyl against her shoulder.

“So? Which type are you?”