Foxglove19

Ritz had everything. Batman, the Flash, Captain America, Superman-anything could (and would) be found stacked upon the dusty old shelves, covered by a yellowed glass screen that protected against nothing and nobody but the refusal to forget. If you had twenty-five cents, you could get yourself a Kit Kat bar and a Marvel. With these, I find myself a nice place in the seat of an abandoned car, or in the branches of a dead tree, wasting the hours away. But I wasn't in a tree. I was in Ritz's shop. There weren't any doors. There were cracks running through the windows like cobwebs, and in some places there were no windows, so sand blew in from...