Im A Fool To Want You * Tom Jones File

The needle dropped, and the heavy, velvet scratch of old vinyl filled the small apartment. Tom sat in the dim amber glow of a single lamp, a half-empty glass of rye resting in his hand. He wasn't listening to just any record. It was his own voice spinning at thirty-three revolutions per minute, a younger, bolder version of himself pouring out a confession he had recorded decades ago.