“Do you know what you are, Skiron?” No answer. “A fucking moron.” He smiles and licks his lips. “Is that what I am?” He looks around at his stall packed with customers, its pots brimming with grain, as if to say, Is this stupidity? “Aye, but it’s worse than that. You’re one of those rare idiots who’s convinced he’s a genius ’cause he got a little ahead, and for that, there’s no cure. You’re doomed, Skiron. King of the fucking cereal. You dumb cunt.”
