Derek’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
His manager will find him in the stockroom tomorrow, rocking back and forth, whispering: “She didn’t even want a gift receipt.” the lingerie salesman's worst nightmare
But her — the woman who walks in at 7:55 on a Friday night, ten minutes before closing — she’s different. Derek’s mouth opens
She tilts her head. “Don’t be. I picked the coffin.” rocking back and forth