A hot May day deserved a trip to a local frozen-yogurt establishment, and while enjoying our sweet treats outside on the Downtown Mall, the owner of Random Row Books came walking toward us on his way through town.
We've been into his shop a few times (maybe eight or 10 now in 10 months), had some small talk here and there, etc., but we'd yet to encounter him outside the scene where it's obviously easy to place us.
But as he passed today, he said hello, we said hello, and then -- looking at our frozen yogurt -- he said with a smile, "You guys buy that with the money you got from selling that book I sold you?"
We got a good laugh out of that, wondered whether he meant the Sherlock Holmes or the Jane Eyre, and vowed to let him know soon that we don't sell what we buy. It's only for us.
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