the lonely and thirsty flock to the quicky mart on christmas day, since it is one of the only things open and people want to go somewhere. whether from loneliness or its extreme opposite, many seem to appear on the streets around two in the afternoon. christmas is over. now what? so they pace in cars.
if only a bar would open or a house catch fire. something. anything.
through the doors of the quicky mart they come, to look, to linger, to chat with someone paid to be friendly. a bad hair dad with two holiday coat girls wander slowly. he wants bud, but it cannot be purchased on christmas. the girls' dark red coats clash with pink boots and yellow hats.
three gangsters wander in with sunglasses on. no beer for them either. the clerk spends his christmas saying, no alcohol today.
we buy coffee and mixers and eye the next couple of moths who come in as we leave.