“I’m Daemon’s sister. My name is Dee.” She placed the undamaged carton of eggs in my cart. “New eggs!” She smiled. “Daemon?” Dee gestured at a hot-pink purse in the front of her cart. A cell phone was lying on top of it. “You talked to him about thirty minutes ago. You stopped by…asking for directions?” So the dickhead had a name. Daemon—seemed fitting.
