“There’s no lube left on them,” I said.

“We spent three days at it with toothbrushes and degreaser water.”

She looked across the glass at my red knuckles and the faint dark smudge stuck under my right thumbnail.

“How many empty wrappers are you needing?” Marge asked.

“Five hundred sleeves,” I said.

“It’s sixteen dollars if I buy them off the shelf at the office supply store, and I’ve got forty-two dollars in checking.”

Marge reached under her counter drawer and took out two long cardboard supply boxes wrapped in thick blue packing tape.