Page 27 - GRANADA
P. 27

While Alejandra fumbled to pull out her wallet, the chime above the door sounded. Beneath it entered in someone I knew couldn’t be from around here. Looking to be in his late fifties with a look that screamed “I’m a snowbird,” socks-with-sandals included, he looked as if he wanted to get mugged by the group of fourth graders that roosted in the alleyway between my and Ali’s shop.
“Get a load of that guy,” Ali laughed under her breath. She passed me a twenty, never taking her eye off the strange man.
“Where do all of ‘em get those hideous tropical shirts, you think?” I asked, stifling a chuckle. I punched in the digits and withdrew the change once the register violently spit out the drawer.
“I bet they’re part of a club,” Ali said, already opening her fresh pack of cigarettes. She beat them against the palm of her hand and opened the flap. Ritualistically, she pulled one out and put it back in upside down before drawing another and placing it behind her ear. With a simple thanks, she left the shop to go on with her day. It was just me and the snowbird.
“Let me know if I can help with anything,” I recited in the fakest customer service voice. He nodded while rummaging through the rack of magazines closest to the door. Repeatedly, he’d pull out a mag’ and mutter, “no, no, t

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