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Fox

Edgar never liked the way of most shops, papering the walls with collector-grade books. He said it damaged the binding, and put them on the ceiling instead.

Fox hefts yet another white box and threads between fat, grieving men in Daredevil t-shirts. Nobody wants to believe the Purple Hippo’s closing, but they’re here anyway, helping pack up. Edgar himself is boxing miniatures, claiming anyone else would bend the lead. They’ll get bulk-eBayed to offset the debt, Fox knows. He just wants to say goodbye.

Outside, they’re taking the big sign down. Another empty shopfront, Fox thinks. One more shut-down funnybook store.

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