Posted Sunday afternoon, July 30, 2017.
Saturday night. Nine-forty and nearing closing time here at B&N. The littlest but most energetic barista is sweeping up and putting the chairs up on the empty tables. The only customers left in the cafe are me and a thirty-something guy and his mother leafing through magazines at two tables pushed together at the rail. The magazines are devoted to cars and racing. He's fairly nondescript, brown-haired in a blue t-shirt. She looks to be in her late seventies, heavy, with big rounded shoulders and a strong square jaw, white hair that still holds some pale yellow strands, kept back from her ears by a clip of five pink beads. Wears purple frame glasses, a man's gray windbreaker over a green and blue checked shirt, jeans, and bright yellow ankle socks with her canvass slipons. The son has just come back from a last browse through the store.
"They have that show you like," he says, picking up one of his magazines.
"Oh?" She doesn't look up from her reading but she sounds interested.
"Justified. Twenty-six dollars but I think they're having a sale."
She nods deliberatively. Thinks things over. Files away his news. Lets some silence build. Then says evenly, a change of subject, "Out of seventy dollars I have five dollars and some change left, and with that I was thinking of getting some tobacco on the way home, because there's a new smoke shop on 9W."