Between the Speakers

The carpet was warm, the day half along and sunny. The tonearm raised and moved toward the spinning dark vinyl. In its rippled canyon walls, consciousness ceased and dreams floated free of earthly tethers. The needle descended and the music began. Afternoon faded into dusk. Back then, summertime was filled with slow-moving wonder. Lying between the speakers, a breeze from an open window blowing across your face, that was all that existed. It was all that mattered.