a vendor and customer make an art of making a sale
Bells clatter above the door as the shopkeeper kicks under a wedge of driftwood. A lone customer. Was she waiting long? Little else is open this edge of a long weekend.
The customer rises, unwinding a bow, all while peering through the window. All for ceremony.
Glancing from street to aging inventory, a smile creases the shopkeeper’s forehead. I will know this customer. As intimate as the family physician. As confidential as the town barber. As absently attentive as my auto mechanic.
The customer has her own knowledge. This is a shoppe of seasonal negotiations. A buyer’s market when winds blow cool. She picks out a driftwood walking stick and scowls at it, as one might a ladybug landing on her sandwich.
It’s on for both of them. Sale as kinetic art. Customer and vendor, both the hunter.
