“Do you, have, any ID?” he repeated, slowly, as if to someone hard of hearing. The cashier looked at the basket, then back at her. Four bottles of vodka and a tub of skin cream. She walked to the end of the aisle, linoleum squishing beneath her heeled boots, and set her basket at the checkout. After tonight, his preferences might change. She thought about buying one for Cai, because he seemed to like reading that kind of thing at the moment, and decided against it. Her gaze skipped across the soft porn, power tools, and home living publications down to the lowest strata, where children’s magazines glowed pink and yellow.ĭevon ran short, ragged nails across the covers. Not to her taste, and anyway she had enough books to eat at home. There were no books in this convenience store, only rows of garish magazines. He suffered occasionally from eczema, especially in winter. The books she ate, the booze kept her sane, and the lotion was for Cai, her son. These days, Devon only bought three things from the shops: books, booze, and Sensitive Care skin cream. We have just begun to navigate a strange region we must expect to encounter strange adventures, strange perils.
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