The hardware store, the stamps, the bag of mulch for the rose bushes, back onto Falls Road, at the height of the midday traffic, to the lacrosse fields and Zach, only so much a man can do alone, with three hours to do it, not much time at all. Without having to wait in a goddamn grocery line. Shaft takes a great big slurp from his container of raspberry Go-Gurt. Shaft glances at his watch. He looks toward the front of the line.
Shaft screams to the woman at the register.
And so I shall. Shaft ignores the pointed looks. Ignores the heated stares. Shaft takes a tiny lick from the spilled yogurt that runs across his thick and powerful fingers. And then another lick.