I heard rustling, scurrying, and the door flew open. Before me stood a man in corduroy pants and a checked shirt, his black knit tie at half-mast. His eyeglasses were covered with the same fine dust that covered everything in the store, and he was holding an unlit cigarette. “Help you?” he said. “I just thought I should let you know that some customers were waiting to pay.” “Really?” We turned and looked at the cash register. “I don’t see anyone,” he said. “They left.”
