I don’t care the Girl Scouts in front of  Reasor’s Grocery weren’t friendly. They set up a card table. They had what I was jonesing for. The commerce of addiction is strictly need/supply. The dealer isn’t there to be charming. Hand over the Washingtons, get the box. Boxes. Always the same for me: Thin Mints. Two rolls of cookies per box. I had one box ripped open, one tube unwrapped before I got out of the parking lot. One tube devoured before I got back to the Holler. I pack them around in my hoodie pouch. Lint? Piffle. You [...]