The neon sign for the "Endless Loop" record store flickered, casting a bruised purple glow over the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air smelled of dust and static. Selim wasn’t there for the latest hits; he was looking for a ghost.
He didn't need to listen to the song anymore. He finally remembered what he had been hiding. The neon sign for the "Endless Loop" record
He checked his phone. The file was gone. The folder was empty. But his pockets felt heavy. He reached inside and pulled out a small, rusted tin box, still damp with lake water. rusted tin box