35
It was early evening when I pulled into parking lot of San Tan Liquors. Rush hour traffic had made the drive all the more unpleasant. Even listening to the Pink Trinkets’ Singing Mammogram album couldn’t free me from my worries. It felt as if the world was coming to an end. Everything was so f*****g upside down. I was determined to make it right again if it killed me.
The bell over the door jingled as I walked in. A hulking guy in a red flannel shirt stood at the counter, ringing up a couple of college kids in ASU sweatshirts. Maybe Peyton was stocking the shelves or in the back somewhere.
I wandered aimlessly through the aisles. I needed to call Conor and apologize for getting angry at him. But with everything going on, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t even know what to sa
