Elly Sketchit worked in a record shop that was adjoined with a small cafe on the side. Both shops were there to bolster business for each other; music played from one side and customers could listen and drink coffee or have a small sweet while they decided what to buy. It worked well and both had a decent amount of clientele, even in this increasingly digital world. Kids these days were getting interested in collecting vinyl, so the older and newer fans gathered in the stores.
Elly was one of the older fans. Not as old as the kids thought she was, certainly. Anyone over the age of twenty was ancient to them. But she was in her thirties and starting to become dissilussioned with life. She had a good education, a college degree and a decent job. She could afford what she needed and that was what counted.
But she was alone.
It wasn't that she was ugly, really. She felt she was normal, maybe pretty if she dressed up and put makeup and jewelry on. She was a striped cat mix, mostly human with short, purple hair but she had cat ears, a nose and tail. Her tail was striped with a lighter lavender that split off at the end in two white tips. Her type wasn't too unusual in her world, as there existed many different hybrid humans. That wasn't her problem.
What was different about her and set her apart from others was a simple mark.
"I thought there would be more, you know?" She spun the magnet display on the cafe side, smiling wanly at the sentiments ("<i>The plural of vinyl is VINYL!</i>", for instance). "I'm getting older and all I have is a retail job and a small apartment above it. I haven't found my soulmate and I doubt I ever will."
The cafe worker leaned over the counter in sympathy. She was a slightly older woman with long, black hair and a curvaceous body. Elly privately thought that had been how she'd found her soulmate so quickly, but she insisted it had been chance.
Well, that and many a night out clubbing.
"I know it sucks, honey, but you'll find him eventually."
"Will I, Kayama? I don't know anymore."
"Your Mark is a microphone, right?"
Elly grumbled but nodded, rolling up her sleeve to expose her arm. A simple black microphone, no stand, was etched upon her pale skin close to her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. And when I say it's <i>small</i>, I mean it. Everyone always made fun of it when I was in school."
"I know you never mention it. It can't be that bad, right?" She exclaimed softly when Elly showed it to her. It was the smallest Mark she'd ever seen! But all she said was, "It's in such an odd place."
"I know. I've had suggestions that I should always wear crop tops and tanks and stuff so I'd know if I found him."
Kayama looked more interested. "Do you? When you go out?"
"A lot, yeah," she admitted. "But it's hopeless. A mic has to be, what, a singer or someone involved in entertainment. How am I going to just bump into anyone like that? I don't walk in those circles, you know? I just like music."
The older woman shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't mean what you think it does. A microphone is part of a lot of things, right? Like radio. Or maybe a public speaker..."
"Ick."
Kayama laughed at her expression of distaste. "I've got an idea. Let me take you out tonight! There's a celebrity DJ mixing it up at that club where I met -" She coughed, then added quickly, "that awesome club in the next city over!"
She sighed, her ears flicking as the door opened and a customer entered. "Hi! Hey, welcome back." Then she nodded. "Yeah, hell with it. I need some heavy, not-hear-myself music tonight."
"Great! Then we'll pick you up at eight."
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