“Hi, honey, I’m coming home. Sorry. I know. I just want things to be perfect…I can’t trust Janice to do what I need; she doesn’t care like I do. Sure, I’ll pick up some — do you want a quart or a gallon?” Mary was always understanding. She was rarely disagreeable. Maybe she was too understanding, Bill thought. It was late. He felt exhausted, but he also felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through his system — the store sure looked great. As he was thinking of the annual sale, he was rehearsing his conversation with Janice. He was a master at those conversations. It’s funny; the imaginary conversations were so different from the real ones. He’d imagine laying into Janice: Janice this is it. Clean up your act and start acting like the store manager or get out. But usually, it was more like: Janice, I really liked your displays, I just stayed late and tweaked them a little. I knew you wouldn’t mind. To which Janice would always smile and say nothing. Bill’s mind stopped wandering. He looked at the road. He must have missed his exit. Now he was going to be even later. He took the next exit and saw a light in the distance. He drove up to what looked like a run-down gas station. Actually, it was a run-down gas station, without the gas pumps. The name on the sign was Buck’s Bass and Bait. Bill thought to himself, now, this is a business I’d love — no hassles, no overhead, hardly any employees. He opened the door. “Hey,” said a lady sitting behind the cash register. Her nametag said Linda. Bill responded, “I’m looking for some ice cream…and the way back to the interstate.” “I didn’t think I recognized you. I know all my customers. The ice cream is in the freezer.” As Bill was walking back to the freezer, Linda took out all the money in her cash register and counted it and put it in an old wooden box. She then wrapped the box with a rubber band and put the box in the next room, on a messy desk. 5