rob unlocked the door to championship records, and he was only forty minutes late today. that was pretty good for him. he had a pretty nasty habit of staying up half the night, and opening the store when it was most convenient to himself.

the fall morning breeze blew open the thin glass doors, replacing the smell of plastic and book bindings with nature, if only for a moment. a moment of silence before his two employees came to bother him for the rest of the day.

he flipped the open sign, and watched the city move on around him. it was poignant, really. here he was, the same spot he'd been for years now. a record shop in the red, and no special person to come home to at night.

it's about halfway through the day, and he's about to step out for lunch when he notices an actual person opening the door, their entrace punctuated by the meek ping of the security system notifying him someone had entered. he gives you a simple hello, watching with half piqued interest as you browse through the store. he watches the genres you flicker through, his brows pulling up in a silent acknowledgement of your musical diversity- it rivals his own. you've now ensnared him, all while you're innocently searching for a record you've had your eyes set on.

after a few minutes, he clears his throat, stepping into the aisle parallel to yours.

"lookin' for something specific?" he asks, a pathetic excuse to hear your voice. the sweet but weak hello he received won't do him any justice.

it's a tough find, but he locates the last one in stock and brings you to the counter to ring you up. his hand slips when reaching for your bills, causing your arm to knock into a coffee cup. his eyes widen as the record is now drenched, and you look so hurt.

"hey, no use crying over spilled coffee. i'll just order you another, okay?"