megan_xx: what records?
vinyl_couch: good.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
A pause. The cursor blinked. Outside her window, the streetlights flickered on.
Megan stared. Her heart did something stupid—a little flip. No one had ever complimented her taste before, not in music, not in anything. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
vinyl_couch: promise ring. braid. some local stuff you wouldn’t know.
The chat window popped open like a secret door.