Bottom of the RiverVictoria Griffin
The old man eased into the shop, favoring his left leg. The Carolina heat followed him through the door and swelled inside the old building, no air-conditioning to cut it down.
A young woman in a tie-dyed tank top and Chacos crouched near a display of sunscreen. When she heard his shuffling footsteps, she grasped a low shelf and stood to face him. Her bright smile and the greeting on her lips faded at the sight of his hunched frame.
“Can…I help you?”
He wiped the sweat from his too-wide forehead and rubbed a handkerchief over his chin. The sight of the flesh drooping from the corners of his mouth, his cheeks seamed with wrinkles, was imposing enough. No need to make the poor girl watch him melt.
“Yes, you all rent kayaks, correct?”
She nodded, her
