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The last time I passed the pharmacy, it was there. The time before that, I didn’t even notice it. Now it’s gone, burned to the ground. Apparently the owner hightailed it to Mexico. He’s under investigation.
My sister’s crying because fifty stuffed animals were destroyed in the blaze. Her nanny would take her after school sometimes to play with them. They were her ever-changing, unconditionally-loving family away from home. I didn’t know about them until they were gone. She’s too sad for me to tease her. I’m not that callous anymore.
My mother’s friend Tabitha was a manager at the pharmacy. She came over for dinner last night.
"I wouldn’t worry too much about it," my father tried to soothe her. "With your experience, you’ll easily find another job."
"But what about Igor?" Tabitha fretted.
"The retarded stock boy?" my mother inquired.
"He’s a mountain gorilla," said Tabitha solemnly. "Now, he’ll probably be stuck in a zoo."
I’m not sure what that was all about.
"The thing that concerns me," I overheard an old woman saying at the bus stop, "is that all my prescription records were there. What am I going to do?"
"It’s all on computer, I’m sure," said her younger companion.
"But their computers burned with everything else," the woman observed.
"Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. What a pain in the ass. They handled my prescriptions too."
Today in class, my English teacher mourned that the pharmacy had been the last place in town where one could get a good old fashioned cherry phosphate.
"What’s that?" asked Sarah Brigham.
"A cherry soda with acid phosphate solution."
"You can drink that?"
"Of course. It’s delicious." My teacher smacked her lips.
"Well," said my mother, loading the dishwasher. "Your sister sure is a sissy. I hope you’ve been giving her hell."
"She’s only eight," I countered.
"How old is too old to play with dolls, I wonder. I’ll have to check in Doctor Spock."
She poured herself a glass of juice.
"Mom," I said, "do you miss the pharmacy?"
"Of course not," she answered. "It was only a store."
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