Third Day's the Charm

Another rainy day, the third in a row now, and another day at the shop as well. The shutters are up, the muted television set playing skate videos on repeat, the counter is running full of hope and the Kind of Blue album by Miles is filling the slots between the displayed decks. A second cup of coffee is sitting in front of me as I type.

  

I look over my shoulder and see Patrick, my magazine editor colleague and temporary roommate, and Inchul, our shop manager, sitting on the sofa that has lost its comfort a long time ago. The Biffle decided to spur his cultural input and chose to read his book over playing video games on his lap. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the trumpet.

The day is slow, perhaps due to the rainy grey, but nobody really knows. I could lie and tell you that I cared about the sales, but I was never close to figures and numbers. Even the annoying shop phone is quiet today. It sits over there, stalking, almost staring at me, never sure of when to ring and disturb the piano that is introducing the Flamenco Sketches.