She’d never had a day pass so slowly. Each time the bell over the door jingled, she jumped, expecting the horrible man on the phone to burst through, minus his giggling accomplice. For some reason, she knew she wouldn’t see the woman. The woman was a prop — like a lamp set on a stage for a play. The woman wouldn’t show up even if the man did. Customers filled every square foot of the store, but Max lay at her feet, still barely moving. Like her, he kept one eye on the door. She noticed he watched it as if he, too, expected trouble. He didn’t bother to greet anyone. Neither people he knew nor any of the strangers. Whatever they’d drugged her dog with, they’d measured the dosage wrong. He clearly wasn’t throwing off the effects as quickly as he should. She’d laid a hand on his side several times to check his breathing, and he seemed all right. The lethargy was not normal though, at least not according to what she’d been able to find on the Internet. He wouldn’t eat, and he showed little interest in his surroundings.
