Trigger Warning: Short Fictions And Disturbances - Plot & Excerpts
It had once been an aircraft hangar, but the local airport had closed over twenty years before. There were a hundred traders there behind their metal tables, most of them selling counterfeit merchandise: sunglasses or watches or bags or belts. There was an African family selling carved wooden animals and behind them a loud, blowsy woman named (I cannot forget the name) Charity Parrot sold coverless paperback books, and old pulp magazines, the paper browned and crumbling, and beside her, in the corner, a Mexican woman whose name I never knew sold film posters and curling film stills. I bought books from Charity Parrot, sometimes. Soon enough the woman with the film posters went away and was replaced by a small man in sunglasses, his gray tablecloth spread over the metal table and covered with small carvings. I stopped and examined them—a peculiar set of creatures, made of gray bone and stone and dark wood—and then I examined him. I wondered if he had been in a ghastly accident, the kind it takes plastic surgery to repair: his face was wrong, the way it sloped, the shape of it.
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