Vinyl Villain

My fingers were sore from the string that held the bundles of records together as we walked down the hill to Vinyl Villains. They were pristine inside the tied up boxes and when the record shop guy turned the first one over in his hands he asked Sheona reverently if they were all like that. My own records were already binned, played to death and ripped to shreds but both sets were redundant without a player and with another baby on the way there was no room for old stuff to just lie about. She got £120 for her collection. As we walked back up the road and I wiped her tears away, they turned to pieces of silver in my hand