The corner drugstore was nearby. It was probably the only place open at this hour. He waited for the traffic to pass, then jogged across the street and hurried down the sidewalk.
When he pushed through the doors into the drugstore, he found what he had both feared and expected. The drugstore still had its soda fountain, which had been removed in the early ‘70s. All the stools were vacant. He slid onto one.
By the clock on the wall behind the counter, it was almost 9:00 P.M. That was closing time. He used to have coffee ice cream here with his father on summer nights. With a little grin, he started to flag down the heavy-set black woman sorting silverware behind the counter, then suddenly spotted a discarded newspaper on another stool. He grabbed the top section. The dateline was Saturday
