Three Days of Happiness

The reflection of the sun off the asphalt was awful, and beads of
sweat ran down my face. I was thirsty, but I didn’t even have money
to spare on juice from a vending machine. I’d have to endure until I
got to my apartment.
Unlike the bookstore, the CD shop had decent air conditioning.
When the automatic doors opened and I was bathed in cool air, I
found myself wanting to stretch.
I took a deep breath and let the air soak into my body. The store
was playing a popular summer song, which I suppose was still just
as popular as when I was in middle school.
I went to the counter, called to the usual blond clerk, and pointed at
the paper bag in my right hand; he looked at me dubiously.
His face gradually changed to something that seemed to imply I had
severely betrayed him. A face that said “How could you let go of all
these CDs?” Basically the same reaction as the old man at the
bookstore.
“What kinda turn of events is this?”, the blond asked me. He was a
man in his late twenties with droopy eyes. He wore a rock band T-
shirt and faded denim, and his fingers were always moving
nervously.
Similarly to the bookstore, I explained how I had to sell my CDs.
Then he clapped his hands with a “In that case...”
“I’ve got somethin’ good for you. Maybe I shouldn’t really be tellin’
you, but I’m real into your taste in music, bud. So just between us,
a’ight?”
It sounded like it was word-for-word the kind of thing a swindler
would say.
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