Jive_bunny_the_mastermixers_thats_what_i_like ◉ «Trusted»

He didn't select a specific record. He hit a sequence he’d never tried before: .

Eddie looked down. His hands were moving on their own. He wasn't just polishing the counter; he was buffing it to the beat of Sarah was out of her booth, her tired eyes suddenly sparkling as the medley surged into "Let’s Dance." jive_bunny_the_mastermixers_thats_what_i_like

The year was 1989, but inside , the clock had been stuck in 1959 for three decades. The air smelled of strawberry malts and floor wax. Eddie, a man whose pompadour had survived three recessions, was polishing the chrome of his prized possession: a 1954 Wurlitzer jukebox. He didn't select a specific record

For three minutes and fifty-two seconds, the generation gap vanished. The 80s drum machines held hands with the 50s guitars. When the final notes of the medley faded and the rabbit vanished in a puff of glittery smoke, the diner fell silent. His hands were moving on their own

Eddie stood behind the counter, breathless, his pompadour slightly askew. Sarah sat back down, a massive grin on her face. "What was that, Eddie?" she asked, smoothing out her skirt.