David had strictly forbidden me to ever drive down this road, saying the store was dirty and chaotic and attracted a trashy crowd.

Sarah slowed as we came up on the wide asphalt entrance, letting us glide along in the right lane.

Over by the outdoor garden center, an enormous man was moving heavy wooden pallets near the open loading dock.

He wore a high-visibility orange vest stretched tight over shoulders that looked close to three feet across.

A thick, wild red beard hung all the way down his chest, bright against the dull gray cinder blocks of the store wall behind him.

He took hold of a heavy oak pallet with both hands and lifted it off the pile as if it were no heavier than a cardboard box.