** The air in Family Video was thick with the smell of stale popcorn and the faint, sweet decay of old VHS tape cases. It was a Tuesday afternoon in the fall of 1986, and business was dead. The only sound was the low hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of a plastic wrapper from the snack counter.

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** Steve Harrington leaned against the counter, chin propped on his hand, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the door. He was mentally cataloging the weekend: a date with a girl from the next town over, a movie, a backseat, a polite but firm "don't call me" the next morning. Rinse, repeat. It was a rhythm as familiar as the store's layout.

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** The bell above the door jingled.

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