There were no lights in the store, of course, but there was scatter from the waxing moon and some deep yellow coming through from the solar-powered lights in the parking lot.
Roscoe stood on the information desk keeping watch while the others filled carts. They had the operation down to a science. Cans, bottles, stuff still likely to be good. Candles and kitchen matches. The pharmacy, always the pharmacy.
Before they left, he would check the magazine aisle. Sometimes, but not often, there would be a paperback worth reading. If only he could get the group to raid a bookstore.
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