by Ron Barbagallo

Adam was a salesman who wore the gray, off-the-rack uniform of an executive. Beneath Adam’s silver haired comb-forward, lay an ego-crazed soldier. His weapons were theatrical Jedi mind-tricks and salacious ‘man behind the curtain’ sleights-of-hand. This past weekend, Adam used his job title to impress a little old lady. Disarming her with Midwestern tomes, he offered her five cents on the dollar for all her worldly possessions, and trustingly, she took it. Today, with her bounty in hand and seeing that he had a clear path, Adam thought to himself “Neato, I’m so glad no one is in my way; that’s just the way I like it.” Tangentially, he buzzed like a bee, ducking the bright beans of light bouncing off the shop’s shining stainless steel front door. “I hope no one is in front of me at the counter.” Adam giggled with anticipation. “After all, I have things to sell.”