Yelping with Cormac: Jamba Juice →
Financial District - San Francisco, CA
Cormac M. | Author | Lost in the chaparral, NM
Three stars.
I’ll have another, he said.
The clerk wiped down the counter and would not look at him. We’re not supposed to give customers more than three guarana boosts, he said.
I aint askin.
The clerk poured another shot of what looked to be hog lagoon effluent and pushed the glass across the counter.
The man took the brimming glass with a calloused hand and stared into the murk and staring back were wolf eyes golden and immutable. He tossed the shot back. As if in consuming the vision he could consume the memory as well. The scar sickled across his face throbbing.
