walmart. is that where they sell walls?

no, but it is the only place in town that develops color 120 film. the pitfalls of living in upstate new york during a recession. the man behind the counter is named joel. his hair is completely white and his wire spectacles are completely round. he seems gruff, but has no expression. his accomplice is a much shorter man named moody with thinning brown hair falling to his shoulders. moody hobbles. a maniacal smile spreads across his face whenever he receives a roll of film to deposit in the film development box. it is obvious that joel handles all the customer transactions. wanting to catch the bus, i asked joel if i could check back for my film around 6. he stares off into the distance, then leans in and stares me in the eye. "you can pick it up at 5 minutes to 6," he says with the gravity of a promise and the indifference of a walmart employee.

i left to wander through store, eventually settling on the bottom shelf of their container section (mad spaces, yo! i smell a walmart performance piece in the works!) and reading on the road, in which i discover that the paragraph on page 81 about the mexican girl inspired my sex life this past summer. at exactly 5:55 pm i return to the photo counter. joel doesn't blink. he hands me four envelopes with my film rewound around their spools, held in place by a piece of transparent green tape.