My expectations were only half-correct. It was not, in fact, an easy-peasy deal ripe for the taking. But my expectations were also half-wrong. There was a store that bought and sold life span. After selling my books, I headed to a CD shop in town. The heat radiating off the asphalt was horrendous, and sweat was pouring from every part of my •‹Ǥ  ™ƒ• –Š‹”•–›ǡ –‘‘ǡ „—–  †‹†ǯ– Šƒ˜‡ –Š‡ ‘‡› –‘ •’‡† ‘ …ƒ‡† drinks from a vending machine. I had to deal with it until I got home to the apartment. Unlike the bookstore, the CD shop had air-conditioning. When the automatic doors opened and the cold air engulfed my body, I felt like stretching. I gulped in the air, pulling the coldness deep within me. The store was playing a summer jam that was popular around the time I started middle school. I headed for the counter and called out to the employee with bleached hair who was always there, then lifted my other bag and pointed at it. He looked suspicious. Then his expression changed, suggesting I was performing som‡ƒ…–‘ˆŠ‹†‡‘—•„‡–”ƒ›ƒŽǤŠ‡Ž‘‘–Šƒ–•ƒ‹†ǡDz…ƒǯ–„‡Ž‹‡˜‡ •‘‡‘‡Ž‹‡›‘—™‘—Ž†„‡‰‡––‹‰”‹†‘ˆ•‘ƒ›•ƒ–‘…‡Ǥdz‘–Š‡” ™‘”†•ǡ–Š‡‡šƒ…–•ƒ‡”‡ƒ…–‹‘ƒ•–Š‡‘Ž†ƒǯ•ƒ––Š‡—•‡†„‘‘•–‘”‡Ǥ DzŠƒ–ǯ•–Š‡•‹–—ƒ–‹‘ǡƒǫdz–Š‡‡’Ž‘›‡‡•ƒ‹†–‘ me. He was a skinny guy in his late twenties with drooping eyes. He wore a T-shirt with a rock band on it and faded jeans. His fingers were always moving about restlessly. Just as I had at the bookstore, I explained why I needed to sell my CDs, and the em’Ž‘›‡‡…Žƒ’’‡†Š‹•Šƒ†•ƒ†•ƒ‹†ǡDz–Šƒ–…ƒ•‡ǡƒ…–—ƒŽŽ›Šƒ˜‡ •‘‡–Š‹‰›‘—‹‰Š–™ƒƒŠ‡ƒ”Ǥǯ‘–•—’’‘•‡†–‘–‡ŽŽ›‘—ƒ„‘—––Š‹•ǡ „—–  ‰‘––ƒ •ƒ›ǡ  –Š‹ ›‘— Šƒ˜‡ ‹…”‡†‹„Ž‡ –ƒ•–‡ ‹ —•‹…ǡ •‘ ǯŽŽ Ž‡– ›‘— ‘™ǡŒ—•––Š‹•‘‡–‹‡Ǥdz It might as well have been a speech straight out of a how-to-scam-a- sucker manual, word for word. ‡•ƒ‹†ǡDzŠ‡”‡ǯ•ƒ„—•‹‡••‹–Š‹•–‘™–Šƒ–™‹ŽŽ„—››‘—”Ž‹ˆ‡•’ƒˆ”‘ ›‘—Ǥdz Dz‹ˆ‡•’ƒǫdz”‡’‡ƒ–‡†Ǥˆ…‘—”•‡ǡ–Š‹•™ƒ•Š‘™”‡’Ž‹‡†–Š‡Žƒ•––‹‡Ǥ —–…‘—Ž†ǯ–help myself. Dz‡ƒŠǡŽ‹ˆ‡•’ƒǡdzŠ‡•ƒ‹†ǡ†‡ƒ†•‡”‹‘—•Ǥ