12-04-2009, 10:59 PM
[html]
| http://sleepyglow.net/souls/gifts/snake.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:fixed; padding-top:130px; padding-left:15px; padding-right:15px; padding-bottom:10px;"> He glanced at her at the continual use of the word ‘sir’ and, thinking he might not be able to stand it for much longer (he didn’t see himself on any elevated level over her, though this was false), he said in a quiet voice, “You don’t have to call me sir.” And that was all he said, and they continued on. She remarked that his idea was a good one in the doorway to the store, and he nodded and allowed her in first. He followed silently, moving to the front desk and beginning his search. The counter was wooden, not a glass display case, so he began to rifle around on the taller shelves. A lot of the things he, like Vieira, did not understand the use for. He continued rifling around until he came upon the back wall of the store. He found a door there that was still intact, and tried the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge—still locked after so many years. Without conference with Vieira, he put his shoulder to the door and, taking a few short steps back and then lurching at the door, shoulder-first, the lock merely broke from the door. He was in. He didn’t say anything, just continued inside. The dust was even thicker here than it was in the store, and probably because it hadn’t been looked at in scores of years. He coughed from the dust that he had stirred up, and then looked around with watering eyes. He saw something that caught his eye immediately—a cardboard box, about the size of a small package, that was full to the brim with small packages full of matches. He grabbed the box and took it outside, placing it on the floor. “Matches,” he said in his usual gruff voice, then went back into the storage room. After some rifling around in boxes, he brought out another box. This one was much larger, one that might have housed a medium-sized TV. He reached in and brought out the first item—a thin blanket, a pale green color that had grayed over time, and was covered in dust. He looked it over, his eye scrutinizing. “We’re in luck.” He put it back. “The moths haven’t gotten to this one. That’s been my problem—I’ve found all kinds of blankets, but they’ve been eaten through by bugs.” Well, that was easy. Almost too easy, Snake thought. |
table credit goes to sie