How a Fourteen-Dollar Yellow Baby Blanket Brought Down a Regional Director
The cashier in lane four was a young woman named Nancy with a little silver ring in her left nostril.
A black rubber conveyor belt crept along between two silver rails, carrying a box of plastic forks and two bottles of motor oil for the older man ahead of us.
I reached for the display rack at the mouth of the checkout lane and took down the yellow baby blanket.
The fabric was soft and light, the exact color of lemon peel, with a plain white tag that said fourteen dollars.
I laid it flat on the moving belt.
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