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The record company rep walked into the art loft with the news that there was going to be a cruise around Manhattan on a ferry with bands playing and an open bar. Working in a record store brought benefits: they were all invited. The rep went on with details, others asking things.

Half-listening, he stared out the row of windows toward the roof of the record store. His boss had told of rock stars giving parties there. Only some chairs and umbrellas were visible.

Everything’s changing, he thought, and some things should remain the same.

A fellow artist started the communal music player. Music filled the room, surrounding shelves of paint and stacks of foam core.

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