Shutaro stopped in front of the store window.

He read the sign sitting next to the gramophone in the window’s center. ‘Retro looks, new sound.’

Aoi noticed him lagging, backtracking to see what he was looking at. She glanced up at him, catching his expression. “Why do you look like that?”

“They’re calling it retro,” he said, staring at the gramophone with its horn.

“It is.” Aoi raised an eyebrow. “How old do I look to you, Shutaro?”

Shutaro flushed, stammering out a long ‘um’.

“Please, I’m not that precious about my age,” Aoi said, rolling her eyes. “I turn sixty next year, remember?”

“I just,” Shutaro turned to look at the music player again. “I don’t really think about it. Time just passes.”

“It does for everyone. You’re gonna have to get used to people calling stuff that were new when we were little ‘retro’. Soon enough you’re gonna hear people call it ‘antique’, too.”

The look on his face made her want to laugh.

Even though he had been a vampire for more than forty years by now, Shutaro somehow kept finding new things about being one that tripped him up.

He wasn’t sure that he would ever stop finding them.

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