Ali pulled a ten-hour shift most Saturdays, and this one was no exception, so he wasn’t too surprised when not five minutes after he flipped the sign to Closed and started cleaning up, a shadow fell against the glass and knuckles rapped a hollow boom against the window.
“Tell ‘em we’re closed!” Sharon yelled from the back, already counting the day’s takings.
“It’s just Yaz!” Ali shouted back before unlocking the door and drawing Yazid inside by the hand. It had been sleeting all day, yet Yazid was wearing nothing but a baggy T-shirt, even baggier jeans, enormous sunglasses and flip-flops. “Your feet’ll freeze off,” Ali warned.
“Good,” Yazid grumbled, and pressed a toothpaste-flavoured kiss to Ali’s mouth. He refused to take off the sunglasses. “I think I died. Am I dead?”
“No,” Ali sai
