Add was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling his shoes on and trying to smoke a cigarette at the same time. The result was shoes that were only halfway on and a trail of ash down his white t-shirt. He didn’t really seem to notice that much, he was more intent on getting out the door as quickly as possible. It was far later in the day than he’d originally planned on leaving and he was losing precious time that could be spent far better out on the town. Granted, he didn’t have an intended destination but he felt a great deal of wanderlust nonetheless. With one shoe on, he reached out quickly for the ash tray on the bed next to him and snuffed his cigarette out among a graveyard of other butts. After tying his other shoe, he stood and crossed the room to where he’d laid out a sweater and a pair of corduroys. He dressed quickly and after grabbing his coat, hat and a pair of gloves, slipped out the front door of his apartment.
Once he was out on the street, he wished he had worn a beanie and not his fedora. With his ears out in the open, the cold air nipped at them something fierce. Add pulled his pea coat closer around him and stuffed his hands in his pockets, burying them deep inside the cozy fabric. He walked a little further down his block before stepping off to the side and closing his eyes tight, preparing for the uncomfortable tightness that was about to enclose him as he apparated. His destination was Diagon Alley, for what he didn’t know but he felt like spending some money.
Addreig’s feet hit the ground unevenly and he stumbled a little bit, though he arrived otherwise in one piece. He was able to right himself on the Alley wall next to him and looked up and down the narrow lane.
What to sink my money into this time? He was never one for reading, his wardrobe wasn’t in need of updating. The only thing he could never really seem to get enough of was music. He knew there had to be a record store there somewhere, though he’d never stumbled upon it before. So, he picked a direction and just started walking, keeping an ear out for music coming through a door. It didn’t take long before he found a small shop, the sign of which had long faded, but whose storefront was an unmistakable display of old records and magical record players. Add was always a music purist and felt that music sounded better when it was played old school rather than on a radio, although he did own both.
Excited over the prospect of a new sound and a reprieve from the cold, Add pulled open the door and stepped inside. It was dimly lit inside and not too much warmer than it was outside and there was a thin layer of dust on some of the older records. Otherwise, it seemed like there was a mixture of both old and new music and that the inventory was well cared for. Add instantly gravitated toward the rock section, bypassing his usual jazz. He was always looking for new music to try and always wishing that he could learn to play something, anything. He started thumbing through the new albums and listened absentmindedly as a new song started playing on the player in the corner of the shop.
