The feigned transparency. He wondered if you could smell it on his breath. She looked at him like a National Geographic collection, full of promise, inspiration and humanity. He looked in the mirror and saw a projector slide. Shine enough light on, you start to see the dust on the other slide. The subject was printed on vinyl and his print had plenty of dust on the other side. He held the disk in his hands, rough to the touch. He was no expert he watched the others in the store dancing disks playing in their fingers. Hers were different. Glances happen often, following lines of sight, looking for points of attraction. For her it was the eyes. They examined each groove as if searching for the lyrics printed on the outside of the vinyl.
He looked for lyrics to her life in those early twenty something lines on her face. They existed to tell a story, just little bits of one. As his gaze returned to the music in his hands he caught a flicker as she looked up and he looked down. A little embarrassed, he silently decided the year 2019 wouldn't be about swipes or likes it would be about reading the story in those shining eyes, or listening to it one word at a time. Wasn’t he getting ahead of himself? He was looking at this creature, it had nothing to do with her. She couldn’t control what she looked like, he happened to be attracted to that. Thousands of years of biology being recognized in a record store on King Street. Everything he knew about her was predetermined, some could argue even the clothes she wore were chosen by her environment. That soft lavender t-shirt with the frayed collar. Given to her as a gift from her mother on her birthday in 2003. She thought maybe he liked the music she was looking at, surely he wasn’t staring at her. Maybe he’d come over, maybe not either way she had to choose at least one record for her sister’s party next week. She went over to the new releases section. The covers can be so magnetic, “ok last time I bought one of the cool covers” she told herself. A quick reminder not to be tricked by the appearance that something might look good. This guy could be a total loser, even if he did look cute. She brushed of the flush to her cheeks as a mistake and found the back wall with some of the older choices. Just as her thoughts were returning to the music at hand, her mind no longer singing words of a silly crush and a record store blush, she heard “hey”.
He spoke soft as to not disturb the other customers in the store. “I don’t mean to disturb you, you seem pretty intent on that weird al yankovic greatest hits album”. “Ummm” she replied, embarrassed by her timing choosing that album “I enjoy his creativity, he’s not afraid to be himself I like that”. He looked at those eyes and asked “You mind if I share a thought I just had?”. “Go ahead” she replied. Nodding, and fascinated by the warmth he gave her with those cool blue eyes. He paused, then began. “You know I was over there, I saw you. And for the last ten minutes I’ve been writing your biography in my head, seeing details on your face imagining what they mean. Thinking about if I could make you smile, what it would take to make you mad. I might watch the sun go down tonight and this story might play across my mind for the last time. Maybe you’ve done the same, had a thought or two about me looking at you. I figured I’d come over and hear the real story from you, I think you might do a better job than I ever could” He finished and waited for her. “I like that… I’m going to leave, before I do. I’ll write my number on your hand. If you’re watching that sunset tonight and still curious about that story, give me a call”.