Melvin pulled up outside of Charlsey’s mini mart & liquor and killed the engine of his vehicle. He hopped out of his ride and stepped upon the sidewalk, making his way inside of the ghetto establishment. As soon as he crossed the threshold inside of the store, he found the clerk looking up at the television set mounted high up on the wall. His arms were folded across his chest and the tube had his full attention. A Bronx Tale was on. “’Sup, man?” Melvin asked as he approached the counter. “Hey, how are you?” the African American clerk glanced back, but the movie had his attention. “I’m good, bruh. Listen, lemme getta bottle of that Hen Doggy Dog and a pack of Newports,” he pulled the few dollars that he had on him
