It was mid-day and Wrecker’s Records was, for lack of a better word, dead. Between the outbreak and curfew, it seemed that fewer people saw reason or felt secure enough to shop, let alone hang out. Addison was a lonely statue by nature. He too faced personal weaknesses daily, hours that permitted him to explore the outside. Staying cooped up was starting to make the gargoyle a bit stir crazy. It was a miracle he’d managed to convince Valence to work at his side--and that his fellow clerk had also managed to avoid the illness.

Tinkering around as he tended to when particularly bored, the warped shelf that displayed new, iconic, or particularly flashy albums at the shops rear broke off. A crooked screw went flying and Addison didn’t have time to contain a sharp gasp as he caught the edge. Slap, slap, clatter, he took a few hits from the displayed items and shut both eyes once the crash finally came to an end. “God fucking damn it...” He whispered to himself and breathed a breath that wasn’t necessary for his species. “... Veeee?” The single letter was strung out longer than it should have been.