“This is not ‘a few records,’” I said, crouching and pulling the nearest crate into the light. “This is a new level of commitment for the cause.”
“It’s inventory,” he replied, coming around the counter.
“It’s… D, this is not what I expected at all,” I said, flipping through the first row, checking sleeves, condition, pressings without thinking about it. “But right now it’s sitting here waiting for someone to take it seriously.”
He leaned his hip against the counter, watching me work through the stack.
“So what do we do?” he asked.
“We?”
“I can’t do this without you, Nov. I hope you know that.”
“Well… if that’s the case, then we don’t rush it,” I said. “We build something people can move through without feeling lost.”
I pulled a few records and set them in a loose pile on the floor, grouping by instinct, testing the flow before I committed to anything.
“You mentioned a listening station before. Right?” I asked.
“Two, actually,” he said.
“Good. Then we give people a way to linger.”
I stood, scanning the room again, and that’s when the wall caught me. It wasn’t just comics.
Two panels vividly painted on an accent wall broke the pattern. It was layered with color and line that refused to sit quietly. The first carried a figure that looked like it was still deciding how much of itself to reveal. The second leaned brighter, more certain, work that came from someone who understood restraint.
I stepped closer.
“You didn’t mention this,” I said, glancing back at him.
“Didn’t think it needed explaining,” Deion answered.
“Who did them?”
“One of my students.”
I looked at him again then back at the piece.
“You paid him?”
“I asked him what he needed,” he said. “Then I paid him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Terrell.”
I said it once under my breath, feeling like I’d heard him mention that name before, then turned back to the wall, taking it in again with more attention.
“He knows what he’s doing,” I said.
“He does.”
Before I could say anything else, the gate shifted behind us with a sound that didn’t belong to either of us.
Deion straightened immediately.
“We’re not open—” he started, but the rest of it softened when he saw who it was.
