On my way out, I purchase one of those expensive big, glossy, picture books of all things da Vinci. It’s her Majesty’s dough, so what do I care? I purchase it directly from Dr. Belli once he’s checked in all the rowdy students. Not once during the transaction does he make eye contact with me, or speak to me. Not as if I don’t exist. More like he wishes I would cease to exist.
When it’s done, I take my receipt and my book and I leave the shop the way I came in.
“Arrivederci,” I bark on the way out, just to frost his professorial a*s.
As I’m passing the storefront window, I peek back inside. He’s looking out the same piece of glass. When our eyes meet, I can see that he’s got his cell phone pressed up against his ear, and my built-in s**t detector speaks to me.
It says,
