My wife and I were the only customers in the souvenir and gift shop, lone shoppers during an off-season in Daytona Beach, Fla.
The lady at the cash register was kind but guarded, like the person checking your ID at airport security. But something about this lady intrigued me: Was she shy or resentful? Uncaring or prudent? Calloused or bruised?
Directing me to the next aisle, she snapped, staccato style, “Sweatshirts and hoodies over there; caps, next aisle.”
Her accent, which I guessed to be Eastern European, was heavy.