Birthright

“See, you’re speaking my language,” he said. There was a noticeable bounce in his step now. He got pumped whenever a customer came in who knew their shit. It meant he could skip the music heard on the radio. He moved down a couple of letters and plucked an oft-ignored band from cassette tape obscurity. “Spear of Destiny. You have to hear this song called The Wheel.” He pitched it to the brunette. “Ignore the fact that they also have a saxophone. It’s cool, I promise.”

As he continued to look for bands she might like, he looked up in curiosity. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”