Chapter 5
Would people actually give a crap how many sleeps there were until a store opened?
Probably, actually. He wondered about the shop’s name again.
The play on words and how it related to previously owned goods was pretty obvious—but did it have a double meaning?
Was the owner looking for some kind of second chance, too, for some reason?
The idea gave him pause. Then he shook his head at his soft-brained thinking and cracked the truck’s windows halfway.
It was still cool out, but he usually didn’t leave Grover in the cab, regardless.
“I won’t be long, boy,” he promised.
Grover opened one eye at the sound of Grant’s voice, then sighed heavily and went—pointedly, it seemed to Grant—back to sleep. Do not disturb my nap with boring human trivia again, his inert body seemed to say.
Grant climbed down from the truck cab and bolted across the street to the shop before his nerve could fail him or his newly adopted misanthropy and desire to avoid human contact at all costs won out.
At the last minute, he changed his mind and turned back.
He opened the driver’s door and whistled for Grover.
It was better not to leave the dog in the truck, just in case it warmed up or he took longer than he thought he would.
Plus, he could use the moral support. Plus, Grover was an excellent listener.
He’d stay put on the porch. There wouldn’t be any problem.