“That is going to be three dollars please.”
He scanned my I.D. for nearly two minutes before reaching back for the pack of cigarettes I had originally asked him for. I had the time to count all of the scratch tickets that were flowing behind him. 34 different kinds.
Chino sits behind the counter from six thirty in the morning to ten at night selling the neighborhood all of their fixes. Candy, Carcinogens, Soda, and Sold out Lottery Dreams.
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