I’d started going down with a virus about a week earlier – chicken pox probably, though I never got it diagnosed – and that morning it had broken out in small pink body-sores. Jenny led the way in, carrying the case, and Christine followed, smiling, alert. She peered intently at everything around...
Hey, Robbie, he calls down the aisle, bumping through the front door with a box of second-hand stock, lock up and clear the register. He slams the door shut with his hip. Coming up the aisle, his pointed silver-toed boots clack like goats’ hooves on the tiles. He dumps the box down on the counter...
