Surprise him. She had to do all the work didn't she? Fingertips would run over the spines of the album covers. Alphabetical and chronological if anyone were to look. She'd finally settle on a favorite, carefully pulling out a copy of Hendrix's "Bold As Love" and walking to the turn table. Her care was exagerrated, if only because the thought of hurting her records was especially painful. A good portion of the collection, this album included, had been handed down for generations. Hippie heirlooms.
Finally she'd put the needle on the record and turn up the sound on the speakers, letting the guitar great fill the room as she closed her eyes. She stood in front of the turn tables, hips swaying as she sipped her beer, seeming to forget she had company.