Hank's younger brother, Mark had a completely different kind of taste in music. I recalled he had thrown most of Hank's stuff away when he had moved to Hank's flat. That had happened very soon after the funeral.
Despite his little oddities I had liked Hank. If I ever needed anything, Hank had it. The only thing he wouldn't have loaned to anyone was his ant farm. He called it as his family.
I found myself smiling at that old record in my hands. Perhaps I didn't like the music on it but there were many good memories connected to it. When I was leaving this old place of mine, I could easily forget all about it. But that wasn't what I wanted to do. Therefore, I decided to take the record with me, to remind me of Shirley, Hank and everything else I couldn't get back.