The world is made for guilty prone people like me. I reach up and graze my hand along the sign again.
"Well aren't cha going to ask for a dedication or somethin? Shouldn't you be in a special club or somethin?" Ted says, cutting my moment to shreds.
"What, for giving money?"
"Your money."
"Ted, you can see all of this for free. You can listen to the radio for free. Breathe without paying a penny for godsakes. There's your special club."
His eyes were blank as if I hadn't spoken at all. I just poured my bank account into a dying man's cup, and Ted, my half brother, is acting very brotherly.
"I just don't understand you, Oslo. Whatcha have to gain from this? Someone after your scalp or something?"
I could barely understand what the bastard said, and my silence was an involuntary answer, not to be read into. He wouldn't think about it much anyway. I'm preoccupied with dusting off the sign, and soon the words "SIMON DRUG" are visible again.
"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, if you're cold or whatever. I'll walk home, Ted."
"I dunno. Gonna be much longer?" Ted mumbled something more while shoving his hands deep into his back pockets.
"Not too long- what was that?"
"You aren't his damn maid, I said."
"Go home why don't you. Momma's waiting." I threw him my keys and turned back to the sign on the street. I heard the engine start and the sound got smaller and smaller. Then I was alone on Main Street, with wind like a dead man's breath on my neck, and an empty sky. My reflection in the storefront was a warm reminder of the only beating heart on the sidewalk. But beyond the glass, something caught my eye. Through the window, I could make out a dim light, equivalent to a family of fireflies, feeding a dancing shadow. Shimmers on the glass shelves moved in and out of the way, and it all just looked like rather clumsy ballet. I rushed over and wiggled the door handle, but it's locked. I gave Teddy my keys, not that any would work anyway. At a loss, I looked back through the window, and to my surprise, the light was gone. The store was completely dark. I couldn't even make out where the floor ended and the wall started. "I guess I'm done here then," I thought. I started home, and the splitting silence made it impossible not to mull over the day's events. I'm sure Teddy's home by now, probably opening jars or holding the oven open for Momma, but this morning we were at the grocery store when everything started. Old Miles Simon, a pharmacist who owned the town drugstore, was sitting at a card table in front of the deli. All I knew of him was that when Ted and I were little he would give us caramels or penny candies. That was enough to trust him with my life, at least when you're six years old.
"What brought you to the middle of the market, Miles?" Ted said, brusquely. A woman suddenly appeared behind us, and by her likeness, appeared to be his daughter.
"He's looking for buyers," she replied hurriedly. "I suppose you boys aren't interested in business though."
Ted turned to walk away. "Not today."
"You're selling the drugstore?" I asked, looking Miles in the eye. He slowly raised his head and looked back at me, no glimmer in his eye, no movement in his lips.
"We're bankrupt." said the woman. "I'm Lilly. I'm assuming you already know my dad."
"I'm Oslo Watters and this.. and that was Ted. We're picking up a cake, so we can't stay long."
"You two are the only ones who've stopped to talk. Would you like a flyer?" I squinted at the piece of paper she handed me.
"6,000? Is that all?"
