Laybrinth Books, 4:23 p.m.
Two employees behind the counter. An intensely thin 40-something man with gray stubble and an angular face -- wearing a tight black turtleneck. A plump, rosy-cheeked 30-something woman wearing way too much clothing altogether.
Too Much Clothing (singing, arms flailing): Oh my gooooooodness. . . oh my gooooooodness. . . I am soooooo excited to get out of here tonight.
Gray Stubble: Kate. Shut up. (looks at me) Cust-o-mer.
After twenty seconds of silence during which GS scans my books, TMC fumbles with a black booklet filled with CDs.
TMC: I'm putting on Widespread.
GS: Kate! The Clash! I was about to put on the fuckin' Clash CD.
TMC (looks up at me): Cust-o-mer.
GS scowls as TMC gathers her stuff, getting ready to leave. GS looks up at TMC, shaking his head.
TMC: I have better things to do than sitting here and making you listen to my CD, anyway.