The Kenosha Kid

It was my third day at the record store. The colors seemed faded as the sun began to set. I missed the beach and living to the beat of night and day, because at work you live to the beat of the clock.

Sheryl was checking my work, nodding in approval when something was right and only speaking up when something was wrong.

”You never did the Black Album,” she said. My job was to catalog old records.

”You never did Abbey Road.”

I wondered how old she was. It was hard to tell because her face was not very wrinkled but her hair was gray.

”You never did the Drowning Man.”

I was sitting on an old wooden chair and it was uncomfortable. Sheryl was across a shelf from me, leaning over her desk. Surely, she played outside as a little child. Surely, she went to high school. Surely, she fell in love, maybe got married. Perhaps she had children.

”You never did the Jester and the Fool’s Cabbage.”

Surely one day she would die. Probably before me. What would happen to her then.

”You never did the…”

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Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk