All of his old records were long gone. Along with his wife. And the cats.
Mind you, he still had the radio and the internet for music.
Recently, he’d noticed that Bill Knightswoon’s ‘Baby, come on home’ never gets played over the airwaves anymore. Even on his Golden Oldie stations. How he yearned to hear it again.
He’d looked online for it too. Nothing came up on Spotify, YouTube, or that new Claude fella. The song hadn’t been released on a major label and only appeared on a 7” vinyl. Yet, it was a hit for a short time back then. Alas, nobody had transferred the classic to computer.
In the town, one record store remained.
“I doubt you’ll have it or even know it but I’m looking for an old copy of ‘Baby, come on home’. It’s by—“
“Billly Knightswoon! The most underrated singer of his generation. You’re in luck. We just took in a collection and that gem’s in there. What a voice!” The assistant wonders out back and rifles through boxes of dusty records. A few moments later, he returns.
“That’ll be $3.”
The elegantly dressed, softly spoken gentleman purchases the record and thanks the chap for his help.
That evening, in his toasty and comfy home, he spends hours staring at the cover, reading the sleeve notes, and admiring the black wax. But he doesn’t set it on his turntable.
Early the next morning he returns to the store before they open. Upon arrival, he posts the record through the letter box and leaves.
Yesterday’s assistant notices the 45 on the doormat and stumbles before picking it up. On the front of the picture sleeve is some handwriting that wasn’t there previously. It reads, ‘To the great kid on the counter. Thank you! Best, Bill’.
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