At the front of the store was an old wooden desk. There was a salesgirl sitting there reading Jung. She had on glasses and her hair wascompletely fr...zzy. She smelled like patchouli, too. It was a damnedshame, because she was eminently fuckable, but clearly didn't care atall about her appearance. No make-up, bad hair, and a shapeless sort ofsack dress that just screamed out, "hey, I'm a granola chomping hippiechick and I'm too smart to fuck 'roid like you." Behind the desk was abig, old. The stain would be very hard to get out of the carpet, buthis anger at Michael, now finally coming to the fore, didn't let thespill distract him. As his wife rummaged through Michael's briefcase,Stephen sat back down at the head of the table, facing Michael with astern look.Michael's insufferable grin continued despite his wife's tirade and hisown darkening mood. He almost began airing his own grievances, butMichael's ever-present smile began to bother him all of a sudden. He wasused to his. More

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