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Description
It was sometime in the evening when I decided to walk to the convenience store on the corner. I needed beer, and I thought the air would do me good. The sun was just down and it was starting to cool off.

Even before I got to the store I saw the traffic. It was always busy there, from the minute it opened until the minute it closed. The small parking lot was always full of cars and there were always people walking to or from it.

I rounded the bend and the store was in sight. It was independently owned and it's name was "Market." A sign hung over the door assuring that they accepted WIC payments. The narrow building had one front window, which was completely covered with cigarette posters.

I passed some teens leaving the store. They joked and talked loudly, but were otherwise harmless. As I neared the door a guy called out to me. "Sir! Sir! Sir!" He wasn't raising his voice, so I thought it was somebody down the street. He was at the other end of the parking lot, standing next to a large tree.

Against my better judgement I walked over to him.

"Would you do me a favor?"

I looked closely at him and paused. "Maybe."

"I haven't eaten in three days. I need to get something to eat. I need..." he paused slightly, as if calculating the cost of his meal "two dollars."

I knew he just needed money for whatever drugs they sold down the block, and besides I needed my money for beer. So I told him no. He winced and grabbed at his stomach, but I've lived in too many hard urban areas to fall for his sad suburban panhandling antics. I walked away from him and into the store.

The store was narrow but strangely long. It had the look of an independent convenience store. Kinda dingy, kinda poorly lit, kinda strange selection of things that you would never see in a 7-11. The alcohol was in the cooler on the right wall.

I walked to the beer section and grabbed four big cans of Natural Ice. The stuff was shit, but it was cheap and did the job. It was especially cheap here because they didn't charge tax.

I walked to the counter. As usual, there was a line. Currently being served was a white guy in his fifties. He was talking nonstop. Once everything was rung up, he decided he needed cigarettes. Once those were pulled and rung up, he decided he better get another pack. Instead of paying he was now talking about his water bill. He made some witty comment and looking around to make sure everybody in line had heard it. I gave him a blank stare. He was cutting into my drinking.

He finally got done and left, and the lady in front of me stepped up. A black woman in her thirties, I figured she'd be all business. But then she started to make small talk. She bought cigarettes. Now she needed a lighter also. No, she wanted a purple one. While she was wasting time, I looked around the store. I was hoping the cute young Latina was going to be there. She was chubby, but I liked that. They always had her stocking shelves or the cooler. There was no sight of her tonight.

The woman in front of me eventually finished and walked out. I stepped up to the counter and set my cans down. The older Indian woman rang me up. She always took my money first, then put the cans in a bag. Her husband would put the cans in a bag first, then take the money. She charged me less than the price listed in the cooler. I didn't ask any questions. I just handed her my five. Change in hand, cans in a generic "Thank you for your business" plastic bag, I walked out the door.

The panhandler called out to me again. I ignored him and weaved through the cars parked in the lot, back onto the road to my place.