I found the packing materials near the back wall.

The store only carried the thin clear kind of tape, but it would have to do.

By noon, the morning frost was completely gone, leaving the ground soft and wet.

I stood at the checkout counter.

The clerk was a teenager with bad acne whom I didn’t recognize.

He wore a red vest over a faded flannel shirt.

“Four rolls of packing tape,” I said.

“And two packs of the thick black markers.”