* * * * *
A spur-of-the-moment trip to Zeller's, of all places, on Saturday afternoon, because the coffee maker just died, quietly, that little orange light suddenly meaningless. Zeller's in the middle of going out of business, turning itself into a Target. The girls at the checkout less than motivated. C says they'll have to re-apply for their jobs. We get in a short line, this middle-aged woman waiting for a price on a can of spray paint with a broken cap. Waiting and waiting. The guys in hardware not answering. Will never answer. They're probably high. We give up, go to the next line. It's a cluster fuck. After taking things out to the car, we have to go back through the store because I've promised Oona a treat at the food court. The middle-aged woman is still waiting for that price, and the checkout girls are still standing around laughing.
* * * * *
A teenaged kid walks up to a woman begging on the sidewalk downtown. That guy's still there, she says. What guy? says the kid. That fucking guy from yesterday. We'll have to move him, he's bad for business, she says. What an asshole, says the kid.