He couldn’t have been older than ten and there wasn’t a parental figure in sight. The first red flag.
I watched as he struggled his way down the aisle lugging a plastic basket filled to the brim with boxes of candy. Red flag number two.
The kid pushed the overstuffed basket onto my counter with two hands and then handed me a credit card.
“Alberto Alvarez?” I asked, eyeing the plastic. “That’s your name?”
The freckled little redhead nodded furiously and that was it: Red flag numero tres.
I shredded the card and pointed at the front door.
“Adios, amigo…”
The Weekday One Hundred 