It's 11 PM. I'm on my way to Rockin' Records again.

Raphael said a delivery got left at the entrance, and he couldn't pick it up because he's out somewhere. Dinner with his wife or something.

I hesitated, it's really fucking late, man. But he insisted and promised to compensate me first thing in the morning, so I guess I don't have a choice.

Who delivers packages this late, anyway? You'd think they'd at least hold off until tomorrow, or Raphael would've rescheduled. Whatever. I'm here now.

It feels strange to be in the store this late. Usually, there are three or four nerds hanging out in a corner, or Peyton working the register. I wonder how they're doing.

I drop the box behind the register. Raphael didn't tell me where to leave it, so this will do for the time being.

Who is that?

There's a small Polaroid stuck to the wall. It's a portrait of somebody I don't recognize: green hair, blue uniform. What a terrible color palette. Written in the corner of the picture, a text reads: "See you there!" signed by E. Loren. Must be some really underground singer, which makes sense to find in here.

I lean in to take a picture with my phone, but a sudden, loud thunder rumbles outside.

Aw, shit.

I'll just ask Raphael about it tomorrow. I really don't want to get my ass soaked walking home.

I didn't say anything in the end.

The picture wasn't there the next morning.