Chapter 3Knox
“Are these the only baggies you have?”
Knox held up a pair of cheesy red baggies he knew wouldn’t quite fit, complete with sleek white racing stripes down each side he knew would look ridiculous the minute he put them on. They were perfect. Perfect, that is, if you were a middle-aged man trying to fit in with today’s hip young ones for a day in the surf, sun and sand.
The front desk clerk on duty glanced across the lobby from where he sat, elbows on the registration desk, flipping absently through the pages of a gaily illustrated comic book. “It’s not the only pair,” he said, pushing thick glasses up his freckled nose. “But everything we have is on the racks, sorry.”
Knox made a quietly disappointed face but nodded just the same. “Thanks,” he murmured absently, fingering
