Chapter 3: NamasteThe deli delivery guy came back—the one who was looking at guitar strings and tablature—he bought the tablature book this time. So, hooray for ringing up a sale, but, that was it. No Trixie and no Pepper. Not that she was my favorite person in the world, but how were people supposed to wander into my store without the siren’s call of her remarkable piano playing to draw them in?
I studied the henna art on my hand. It was starting to fade. I pulled out my repurposed glue bottle and went to work on a new design while I sorted some of my pay later bills into the pay much later pile.
It was coming up on two o’clock before the door chime finally rang. There was Pepper, her hoodie had a different logo on it, but still managed to look like it had been hung up on the floor for
