Nina instinctively grabbed the discarded object and jammed it quickly into her banana yellow tote bag, and stood up casually, the record still in her hand. She had become quite a kleptomaniac over the course of the summer, or in all honestly, throughout the course of her life, and had recently perfected it to an art.

She decided to purchase the record, it was only twenty five cents, quite a steal seeing as though the record case was merely reduced to pulp, the record itself was in beautiful condition. Although, these days, all people wanted were covers. It made Nena sick to go into someone’s apartment and see old records behind frames. She could understand if they were trying to be ironic, but Nena liked seeing records in motion. That’s how she appreciated them.

The man behind the counter was very large, his bottom hung limply over the stool he sat on. His full beard and boxy glasses reminded her faintly of Allen Ginsberg and she almost cracked a smirk in his direction.