The Remains of the Market

“Well,” says Katie thoughtfully. She’s standing in the quiet Christmas night street while I sit in the cab of the idling truck parked at the curb. “You could just come down here at nine tomorrow morning and sit in the truck until the street cleaner comes by, move the truck and then park again.”

“Or,” she continues after I agree, “the other logical thing to do is just unload the truck tonight."