The guy steps in close- litigates and reiterates- ’guess 8 o’clock doesn’t mean what it used to be.’ My watch showed 8:03. And i could see inside the store, employees stacked, cleaned, and chopped. While outside, a small clutch of early risers wonders about when they can shop.
now, i imagine the relief of their roots reconnecting with the dirt. a moment of communication, reconnection.