His foot was in the way, every time. Wondering what would be the latest today, he stood around by a departments store. It was really hot but, sometimes, the doors would slide open oppositely with a swooshy sound and he would get a waft of cold department store air. In that cold air was infused the essence of packaged panty hose, hats of all kinds, carpets, lampshades in plastic bags, boxes of food designed to last for thousands of years, ceramics from exotic locales such as Ethiopia and Morocco and other places where one would likely make the sort of connections needed to procure said ceramics at way-less-than-wholesale from way-less-than-scrupulous exloiter/exporter-types, and myriad thing-stuffs.
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