It was a slow afternoon. The owner sat in the back of his empty menswear store as patiently as his ancestors waiting for buffalo to hunt. A skinny white teenager slouched in wearing a baggy sweatshirt. Soon, he came out of a dressing room fifty pounds heavier. The sweatshirt stretched. The owner strolled to the front door, stood in the teenager’s way out, looked him deep in his eyes and said nothing. Looking back arrogantly at first, the teenager soon saw emptiness closing in on his world as terribly as a coffin lid. He took off the shirts and ran away.
— Brian Kenyon