Walt looked over everything in the shop.
Nothing but trash, he thought. Who would pay for someone else’s junk?
All the whites were stained-over yellow, dust was several inches thick.
Place looked better from the street.
“Can I help you with something?” the owner asked.
“Help me? ‘Cause I have a cane I need help?” Walt barked.
“No, sir. It’s just what I ask customers in my store.”
“Sonny, if I need help, I wouldn’t ask you.”
The owner lit up a cigarette.
“You can’t smoke in here!” Walt shouted.
“Read the sign, old man. It says second hand.”