Ska, Punk, Metal, Country all flip by. My fingers dance over the Showtunes section. I pull out a CD.
One Song Glory.

Hmm. Artist struggling with illness. Check my temperature. Stand on the scale. Jog on the spot. Normal, skinny, not out of breath. I toss Rent on the ground, trawl over Classic Rock. Oasis, too soft, Journey, too high, Hendrix, too good.
Zeppelin.
Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You.

Phone rings twice, Carla answers.
“Hey sweetie, how’s-”
“Yeah, good, are we having any problems?”
“What?”
“Are you unhappy, are we gonna break up, anything?”
“No! Of course not, I love you!”
“Okay…”
“Okay?”
“Um. Great! Just making sure, bye.”
Click.

Cases fall around me as I paw at the shelf. Reel Big Fish catches my eye.
Drunk Again.

Nothing in the fridge but half a Coors. Just as well, it’s 2 PM…

5 PM now. That Coors is sounding better. I give the guitar an awkward strum. The chord rings out, questioning. Are there songs about boring people with no illness, heartache or addiction?

Are they any good?