The store’s gift certificate display

Customer recommended Hitchcock’s “Lodger.” Same customer was asked what her tolerance was for Samuel Beckett-like productions. Said High, said “not tolerance, enthusiasm”

Customer was not a numismatist but did work closely with one.

Customer wasn’t there — was with family on vacation in Mexico

Customer unable to get appointment to give blood for over a month — they were currently working through huge backlog.

Customer said she had tried out for Jeopardy! but gone 9 out of ten on a screening exam for which one needed a ten out of ten. (Asked on the spot the name of the Greek or Roman blacksmith of the gods, she gave Thor, maybe thinking of the hammer. Asked the number of plays written by Shakespeare, she gave 33, which was close to the figure I had in mind).

Customer’s sister had suddenly passed away, mid-thirties. Still awaiting results of medical examiner.

Out the window: deep red baseball hat and similarly colored muscle shirt from which bronze shapely arms emerged. Girlfriend in short cutoffs scant inches from his side.

“Only the godlike believe in the gods” (Holderlin)

Whole right side of customer’s face collapsed to that nostril’s side when she sniffed.

Customer, looking at the display for gift certificates, thought the store must have been around since the 1860’s or something, it looked so old. “This place must have been around since the 19th century,” she thought to herself on seeing the store’s gift certificate display.

Customer from Waterford. She was going back out there to get a headboard her brother had made for her, which would take a UHAUL to bring back. Waterford was a small rural town — a neighbor had used cows for his kids’ 529 — but had been built up in recent years so it was now twenty minutes for groceries not thirty.

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