I remembered a small convenience store a few blocks back. It had still been open, I think. The lot was empty, but the florescents glowed behind the large sheets of glass that made up most of the front walls. I turned around and headed back.

The lot was still empty when I pulled up and parked. I scanned the store through the plate glass as I approached. That was surely why it was designed to be so open, so that anyone passing (particularly cruising police cars) could see at a glance what was going on inside. I didn't see a clerk, and that worried me.

I'm FBI, and the bad possibilities occur to me naturally. Instead of assuming they were having a smoke in a back room, or in the john, I considered the possibility of them face down in a store room, bleeding their life out after a robbery. When I stepped up on the front curb, I had my purse open, my hand inside on my gun.

As I pushed the door open, there was a loud, annoying electronic buzz from over my head. Behind the far aisle, a dark, curly head suddenly popped up. There was startled wariness in the wide blue eyes, but it melted when they focused on me. I'd been classified as non threatening. I eased my hand off the gun and shut my purse before that impression could change.

"Hey there." She moved around the end of the aisle, heading toward the front counter. A large yellow pricing gun trailing a streamer of paper tape, and several stacks of grey plastic bins overflowing with a jumble of dry goods explained what she had been doing out of sight.

She stepped past me, close enough for the sleeve of the hideous orange polyester jacket she wore to brush my arm, and grabbed the push bar on the door. She was a big woman, a half head taller than myself, and heavy, but she moved with that odd grace that some fat people seem to have. She tugged hard, fighting the slide that had been easing the door shut, and managed to get it closed. The teeth rattling buzz that had been sounding shut off abruptly.

She smiled at me as she went around behind the counter to stand at the register. "That thing makes an awful,

racket, don't it? It'd shake my fillings loose, if I had fillings. What can I do you for tonight?" How could anyone be this alert and cheerful at two am? "Toilet tissue?"

"Right back where I was standing," she directed. As I walked to the back, I heard her start singing softly. It was a silly, bouncy tune that I remembered hearing on some commercial. A commercial jingle? "Hey now, you're an all star, get yer game on, go play..." What had they been advertising? Probably started out as a song, then was tagged to shill something. I found the toiletries section. The shelf was almost empty, but a nearby tote held several individual roles of paper. "Hey now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid..." The price was obscene, but supply and demand...

I went to the counter, carrying my choice. She had an elbow on the counter, chin in hand, looking very relaxed. "All that glitters is go-wold, only shootin' star-ars break the mo-uwold..." As I set the tissue on the counter, she straightened, picking it up. She turned it over in her hands, then looked at me. "Are you sure you want to spend this much for just one roll?"

I was surprised. I'd never had a clerk admit that the prices in their store were less than fair. "Till I can get time to shop."

"It's just that... well, I don't know how big a supply you need, but we have a four pack for only about fifty cents more than this. Better value."

"I didn't see any."

"That's right, I forgot. Hang on just a sec." She exited the counter area, again brushing against me. As she went, she was singing under her breath. "Since I met you baby, I been outa my head. I jus' can't get enough, I jus' can't get enough..." She rummaged in one of the bins, and soon returned with a plastic wrapped quartet of toilet tissue rolls. "Here you go." She grabbed the pricing gun, dialed it, and slapped a tag on the bundle. "There. Now it's official."

"Thanks."

"No prob. Anything else?"

"Yes, I'm hungry. Do you have anything non life threatening?"

She laughed. It was a young sound, and I looked at her more closely. She wasn't really young, she had to be at least ten years older than I. But her face was smooth, unlined. It was like she'd managed to keep the world from inflicting itself on her expression. Her skin was beautiful, pink and cream under the harsh glare of the florescents, innocent of even the lightest cosmetic and almost luminous.

"No, darlin'. Our graveyard clientele thrive on the four major food groups: salt, grease, sugar, and caffeine. The closest you'd come would be an overpriced can of vegetables that have been here since my grandma was in knickers, and that would be loaded with enough sodium to preserve a Smithfield ham. But I tell you what..."

She leaned forward conspiratorially. Her eyes glinted merrily. She whispered, "As long as you're only buying necessities, the ice cream freezer is right over there, and we just got in a delivery." She smiled. No lipstick, but her wide, beautifully formed mouth was a natural rose pink.

My mouth suddenly filled with saliva. I couldn't be sure that it was entirely at the thought of ice cream. "Good idea." I went to the chest freezer and started to sort through pints. She examined my selection when I returned.

"That's a good choice," she said, tapping the carton. "Ben and Jerry. I'd adopt those boys, if I could afford it. This is one of the few things we have that's honestly worth the price." She sighed. "Of course, it's no Blue Bell."

"What's that?"

She sang again, "Blue Bell, the best ice cream in the country. It's home made, down hoooome..." Another smile, slightly abashed. "Sorry. They stick in my mind. We have Blue Bell back in Texas. It's regional, you can't get it out here, and I miss it."

"You sing a lot. You must really enjoy your job."

"I hate it." she said matter of factly. "The singing helps keep me from going bonkers. It kind of gets me in trouble, sometimes. Makes some of the customers nervous, so the bosses said to can it. Seems that I'm too happy to suit them. But when no one's here..." She shrugged. "I didn't figure you'd bust me to them. You don't look that uptight."

Well, that was a first. I can't count the number of times someone's told me I looked tense, repressed, uptight, anal retentive...Okay, most of those are from one source, and Fox does like to tease me.

She rang up my purchases, and told me the total, which was only slightly heart stopping. I handed over the money, and she popped the cash register open and collected my change. When she didn't lay it on the counter, I held out my hand. She counted it into my hand. I could feel the heat of her fingers through the paper of the bill as she pressed it into my palm. "There ya go. Anything else?"

"No. Just home, ice cream, bath, and bed."

"Sounds like a plan. Just remember, no matter what the 'recommended portion size' is: one pint, one serving." She picked up the pricing machine and twirled it like a gun. "I have to get cracking. They'll skin my head if I don't have this done by shift change."

"That looks like a lot of work. Is anyone coming in to help you?"

She laughed shortly. "Double coverage? Boy, there's a fantasy. Why should they hire someone else to ease the burden when they have a perfectly good peon right here? You take care, now." I opened the door, and the buzz almost drowned her out as she made her way back to the far aisle. "Work your fingers to the bone, whataya get? Boney fingers, boney fingers..."

I went home and ran a stingingly hot bath, then stripped and settled in the tub with the pint of ice cream and a spoon. I ate rich, bad for me ice cream and let the heat seep deep into my flesh, loosening taut muscles and easing aches.

Sooner than I expected I was scraping thick, sweet liquid and chocolate chips out of the bottom of the carton, murmuring, "One pint, one serving." Replete, I set aside the carton and spoon, and eased back into the still hot water, closing my eyes, beginning to doze. I dreamed. Blue bells and aging Vermont hippies, and a clear, sweet voice singing, "Since I met you baby, I been outta my head. I jus' can't get enough, I jus' can't get enough..."