CHAPTER 3

She turned and walked down the soda aisle. Only a few people there, which was good. She wanted to move. She wanted to move.

There was a little girl dancing lightly from Pepsi to Sprite. The stock clerk had the black dead eyes of a shark or an alcoholic. This would be easy.

As the neck of the bottle pressed against her thenar eminence she grasped and lifted, barely breaking stride.

Done.